


not a lie if no one knows

by dreamforlife



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, I absolutely adore Liam and Louis, Just a bit of fun from an idea, M/M, SO, Touring, Where We Are Tour, im not sorrrryy, its brilliant, this is a shameless fic where im expressing everything i love about liam, too many early hours, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/dreamforlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is in love. </p><p>That's it. </p><p>Oh yeah, he's in love with a straight boy. And you know what's worst of all? He's in love with Liam and that boy is a walking sexuality crisis. Louis' pretty sure there are many MANY male fans who've questioned their sexuality because of Liam.</p><p>[In which Louis is screwed and lies because he needs to, Harry is a traitor and well, unsuspecting musicians really do suffer]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :)
> 
> So, I've reworked the chapter a bit, changing a few things, adding things. It should be fully edited now, I've gone through it a few time. 
> 
> Let me know if there are things I've missed out. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Louis doesn’t know what to do.

He wants to shoot the bastard who told Harry that wearing headscarves is a good idea. Like really, which idiotic _arsehole_ decided to tell the boy who _just_ grew out of animal beanies that headscarves are the new thing. Because they aren’t.

But Harry is as stylish as always, with his brown suede _heeled_ boots, skin-tight jeans and plaid over shirts.

But Harry isn’t the problem right now. He can deal with _that_ fashion disaster later. Oh no, the problem right now is much, _much_ bigger. Bigger, stronger, sexier and cuddlier. Which is stupid and so, _so_ unfair because that is exactly his type. And you know the problem with that? Because, Liam.

Yes, alright he’s gay. Shut up. It’s not a recent development, really, he’s known since he was seventeen.

But.

The boys don’t know, of course they don’t know, he’s dating Eleanor (brilliant girl, she’s awesome, she’s like…a female version of him, but seriously. Management has to fuck off.) He still cannot _believe_ that the first thing Management had said to him was _“Louis, you can’t tell ANYONE. Date her and be happy or your career will be over faster than it began.”_

He snorts, _happy._ Yeah right.Living in constant fear that his best friends might find out that he enjoys having things shoved down his throat isn’t exactly what he’d call _happy._ Never mind the metric tonne of guilt that he’s lugging around, that’s eating away inside of him, every time Eleanor’s with him.

But. Back to Liam. _That_ is completely and utterly his fault.

Louis bemoans his eighteen year old self for making it his life’s mission to corrupt the innocent look right out of those wide Bambi eyes. But Louis’ come to love the gleam that appears in Liam’s eyes when he thinks of something _spectacularly_ stupid. Not that he does anything about it, Liam’s still cautious when it comes to overstepping the line, but he’s come out of his shell enough to be a bit daring about things. That is, if you can call standing on a ledge thirty storeys up, drunk out of your mind, only a _bit_ daring. Louis’ probably biased. Adrenalin junkie is a good look on Liam and makes him fucking attractive. Yeah. Louis’ biased.

Speaking of which, Liam is currently jumping up and down the catwalk stage, eyes crinkled behind the black frames on his face, jeans riding low. While Louis understands that his wanting to shoot people is becoming a problem, he still wants to shoot the person who gave Liam those damn fucking glasses. Goddamit, it might have been Caroline…in which case. He can’t do a damn thing.

The sun glances off the glasses, right into Louis’ eyes, and he wonders about the irony of that, being blinded by Liam.

“Bloody Clark Kent,” Louis mutters to himself, microphone pressed to his cheek, thinking back to the selfie Liam had posted, with his hair curling over his forehead and brooding right into the lens. “It’s fucking unfair.”

And really, _who gave him the bloody glasses?!_ Who does Liam think he is to go around looking like all of Louis’ wet dreams come to life? First the _facial hair_ , and then Halloween had snuck up on them and fucking _Liam_ had decided to go as David Beckham like he didn’t even _know_ what that did to Louis. Louis had almost fainted on the spot. Actually, that’s probably a lie. He spent a good ninety per cent of the night on the opposite end of the room resisting the urge to climb Liam like a tree and bite down on his rather delectable jawline. The only thing that had stopped him was the paparazzi he could see outside the club door. The only time Liam _had_ come over to him, Louis had slathered himself all over the boy, pretending to be all out drunk because how the hell else was he supposed to handle it? (He might have licked his face, but that really wasn’t new. He thanks God every day for the personality that he has.)

The sun’s in his eyes now, and Louis just sits for a few seconds, letting the heat pierce, letting the multi-coloured fractals dance in his vision, letting it _hurt,_ until is becomes almost unbearable that he has no choice but to move to the side a little.

 _Better than words_ booms out through the empty stadium and Louis jumps half a mile in the air, smiling as Niall’s raucous laughter thunders out, because even @Grumpycat would crack a smile at Niall.

Louis’ eyes are drawn back to Liam as he belts out _you make me wanna_ accompanied by a hand actually _pressed to his damn crotch_ and Louis is glad he’s sitting down, because _damn,_ Louis _wants._ He’s almost half hard in his jeans and he hates life.

He gets lost somewhere between _hips don’t lie_ and Liam’s little bridge. He doesn’t need to hear Liam’s saucy groans into the microphone. Like, who does he think he is, a pornstar or a popstar? It’s somewhat ridiculous, he thinks, resolutely ignoring the way his pants tighten further (and it’s starting to hurt because goddamit, Caroline had put him in literal leggings) that Liam Payne is a _thing_ that exists in his life. What has he done to deserve this kind of torture? Also, he wouldn’t mind all that much if Liam changed careers or, you know, dabbled in _other things_ in his spare time. (Okay, time to shut up, he doesn’t need this right now.)

Louis watches the younger boy bouncing around, actually salivating at the way Liam’s back muscles tighten and the sweat gleams in the sun as Liam backflips off the stage. He’s pretty sure Liam could hold him up against a wall. Damn, the things he would do if he could get his hands on that body—

“ _Louis.”_

He’s not proud of the way he startles right out of his skin, feeling caught even before the flush hits his cheeks. It’s just Zayn, for god’s sake. Louis manages to grin.

“Zayn! Hey, man!”

The song had finished and he hadn’t even noticed. Did he even sing? Wow. Thanks Liam. If he doesn’t get kicked out of the band for being gay, it might just be because he never sings.

Zayn just throws up an eyebrow, “What’s wrong with you?”

Now, Louis is normally known for his improvisation skills, he’s damn good at thinking on his feet, but no. All has failed him today.

“S’the heat.”

Zayn’s eyebrow just rises higher and Louis deflates, sagging against the stage pillar next to him.

“Just…” He pauses, floundering, “frustration, I guess. Too hot.”

“To hot, eh? So what, it’s _not_ Liam who’s got you sitting here like a sexually frustrated teenager?”

Louis freezes. His mind splutters helpfully. “Um.”

Zayn snorts, swinging down to sit next to him, “Louis, I’m not an idiot. You’ve had a boner for Liam for _weeks.”_

Weeks? Louis wants to laugh so hard that he wants to cry. Tears of blood. _Years,_ Zayn, _years._

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mutters instead, fingers tight around the microphone, “Liam has nothing to do with anything.”

“Oh yeah?” Zayn sounds a little pissed and Louis turns to look at him, gut clenching when a pointed glare meets him. “That’s really not what I overheard the other day.”

Louis’ stomach drops, and he almost squeaks as his heartbeat ratchets up in his ears, “ _What?”_

Zayn’s eyes twitch before he looks away.

“Last month with Eleanor? Yeah, it was an interesting conversation I heard.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis manages. Fuck, Management is going to pull him _apart_.

Zayn hums, and it’s exasperated, aggravated, and Louis knows he’s fucked because this has been building for _weeks,_ then.

“Are you telling me you’re not gay and not in love with Liam?”  

“I really don’t know what—” Is all Louis gets out.

“Louis, stop fucking lying to me!”

It echoes because Zayn is a right idiot with his damn microphone near his face. Louis hunches over as heads turn their way.

“Y’alright, lads?” Niall tilts his head, questioning and Harry’s hanging over his shoulder, eyes worried, gnawing on his lip. Liam is frowning next to Harry, and Louis sighs.

He shrugs, but he’s cut off.

“No.” Zayn hauls himself up, an aggravated groan pushing out of him. “No we’re not.”

“Zayn—”

He pulls himself to his feet, nails biting into his tattoos.

“ _No,_ Lou.”

Louis burns at the heavy betrayal in Zayn’s voice. Fuck, he’s starting to hate himself even more because _nobody_ can stay together with that amount of hurt lathered in his best friend’s tone.

“Mate, I couldn’t—”

He cuts off again when Zayn meets his eyes, and Louis really feels it like a slap to the face, because those whiskey brown eyes are blazing with everything between anger and indignation and he _hates_ it.

“Save it for your _girlfriend,”_ Zayn’s accent thickens, and he’s storming off the stage with a haunting elegance that any angered peacock would be jealous of. It’s terrifying.

Three sets of eyes follow him before flicking back to Louis in a creepy display of harmonisation. He can see the questions pooling in their heads, eyes boring into his face and he closes his eyes, rubbing at his forehead.

Well, _FUCK_.

“What’s happened, then?”

It’s Liam, voice soft and tentative, who breaks the silence that’s threatening to consume Louis. He wants to throw himself off that massive statue of Jesus that’s not far from here.

Louis is notproud of the way he flinches away when he feels a warm presence next to him.

“Tommo?”

“No, Liam, I can’t—” He pulls away when Liam reaches for him, teeth stinging his bottom lip.

He needs to call management. He needs Eleanor. God, he needsLiam _,_ needs that warm, quiet comfort that he offers, needs _Liam_ to just curl up into _,_ is so consumed by it for a moment that he’s terrified it shows.

“I have to go,” he whispers and turns on his heel before anyone can protest, handing off his mike and in-ears.

He finds a secluded area away from everything and everyone, somewhere no one think to look, just as his phone rings.

“Hey love,” Louis sighs out.

“Hey, Lou. I was going to tell about the amazing grade I got for that project I did last week, but something tells me you have bigger problems. What the hell have you done now?”

God, this girl is the best thing in the world. He actually wishes he were straight sometimes.

“Why do you assume it’s _my_ fault?” He groans.

“Because it usually is. Now, spill.”

“Zayn knows.”

It’s silent for a beat, before Eleanor speaks up.

“ _How?”_

Louis hesitates, before heaving out a breath, “He overheard us talking a month or so back and he’s right fucking pissed off.”

“Shit, Lou. _Fuck_ , I knew this wouldn’t end well.”

“Yeah…” He mutters, “I really don’t want to tell management.”

“I could tell them? I’ll ring up Tony…he’s probably the best at the moment.” She pauses for a moment, “Does he know about Liam or…?”

Louis closes his eyes and leans back against the wall, “Everything. He knows I’m gay… _and_ that I’m stupid in love with Liam, yeah.”

_“Fuck.”_

“Sounds about right, love,” he chuckles, and it’s mostly out of pity for himself.

“I wish I was there,” Eleanor murmurs after a stretch of defeated silence. “’Least you’d have had someone.”

“Me too, love, God knows I’d love you to come down here.”

“Maybe we can hook something up?”

Louis can hear keys tapping in the background, “El, you have lectures.”

“This is _slightly_ more important than green energy, Louis.” A beat. “Alright, give me a bit of time and I’ll get back to you. But, I’m sure it’ll be fine, I’ll be out in two days, yeah?”

Louis sags against the wall, relief flooding through him, “God, I wish I was in love with you.”

Eleanor laughs, “Babe, even if you _were_ straight, I wouldn’t go for you. I go for the muscly type.”

He sniffs at her, “Real ego boost there, thanks, love.”

“Happy to help,” she hums for a moment, _“_ Alright, now, please go and talk to Zayn. At least you have him when I’m not there, you know?”

Louis knows she’s right but at the same time…

“El…I don’t know—”

“Get your round arse in gear or I will kick you so hard in the balls you will never be able have kids.”

“Ay, ay, Cap,” Louis grins a little, fond, “Thanks, babe.”

“Love you, see you soon then.”

“Will do, love you, bye.”

Louis hangs up, and slides down the length of the wall, pulling his legs to his chest and leaning his chin on top.

_Now what._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you liked it! 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	2. You're GAY?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :) 
> 
> This is part of my editing, once again. I've gone through and picked out grammar mistakes and missing letters (I always do this...it's so annoying) so it should be good!  
> Added in a few extra bits as well to make it a little more interesting. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

He finds Zayn in the stadium, high up, in the last row, curled up and staring straight at the stage. The sun is out overhead, having just passed eleven thirty. It’s hot and bright and so humid Louis thinks he might melt.

Zayn says nothing as Louis slides in to the seat next to him.

They sit in silence, Louis getting more nervous and increasingly fidgety the longer Zayn stays quiet.

“For fuck’s sake, stop moving,” Zayn grits out finally and Louis sags back into the seat.

There’s another silence, before Louis shifts, and then sighs.

“Zayn.”

The other boy doesn’t even blink.

“Zayn, I’m sorry, man. S’just. Management wouldn’t let me tell anyone more than mum and El, signed a fucking contract and everything.” Louis snorts, shaking fingers tangling in the his shirt, “El’s been great, four years, you know, dunno what I’d have done without her. She hates it, the way John can cut me without a second thought. You can ask, says that if someone finds out, it’s the end of me.”

He gets a reaction from that, Zayn startling in his chair, eyes wide and shocked. Louis feels terrible when he sees the guilt in Zayn’s eyes.

“Lou—God, Louis, why didn’t you… _fuck._ I didn’t—”

Louis grips his forearm with a half smile, “Mate, you couldn’t have known. I didn’t get an A in drama because I had a pretty face. I mean, even though I obviously do.”

The joke falls flat as Zayn pales further. Louis deflates.

“Zed, it’s not your fault, yeah? If anything, it’s mine. Shouldn’t have gone and fallen for Liam. Dunno what I was thinking.” But there’s a tick in his cheek, a smile threatening to burst out at the thought of Liam.

Zayn eyes him, before laughing quietly, “Out of the four us, you went for Liam.” He shakes his fringe out, “Bit stupid, that.”

“Thanks a bunch, Malik,” Louis rolls his eyes, “Make the poor lovesick lad feel even worse for falling for a straight boy.”

“Sorry, sorry,” but Zayn’s grinning, all anger forgotten and Louis _knows_ he’s in for trouble now.

“I’m going to get so much shit for this.”

It’s not even a question but Zayn cackles at him anyway.

“Yeah. Payback for the shit you gave me about Perrie.”

Louis chuckles, “Bro, she _hated_ you back then. Lucky management didn’t force you apart.”

Zayn shuts down at that, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and if Louis didn’t happen to be in love with Liam he probably wouldn’t have survived that. As is, he just snorts mentally. Bloody Zayn.

“Z,” Louis murmurs, “It’ll be fine. El’s flying out in two days and bloody Robyn’s probably going to lecture you, but don’t think they’d risk kicking me out a week and a half into a world tour. It’s their loss.”

“No.” Zayn’s voice is quiet, subdued and Louis feels the worry like a needle splitting his skin. “No, it’s _our_ loss.”

Louis can’t help but curl his arm over Zayn’s shoulders and pull him into a side hug. He’s at a loss.

“They should’ve told us.” Zayn says, leaning into Louis’ shoulder. “We’re in a band together, we have a fucking right to know. If they go and keep secrets like this—”

“Zayn—”

Zayn stands up abruptly, and the look on his face has Louis moving back, getting to his feet.

“No. I’m going to talk to Robyn myself. If El’s flying out, your image will be fine…”

Louis almost laughs. The gay rumours never stopped, if anything, they’re out of control, especially since Modest was run by a bunch of monkeys who don’t know the first thing about keeping secrets. Half the fandom thinks that he and Harry are having some angst-ridden affair behind closed doors, that the tattoos are a carefully planned rebellion, that Eleanor is beard. While ninety per cent of that is absolute crap, they’re right about El and they’re right about Modest. In a way, he’s glad that people see right through the lies. The tattoos though…well, it’s just weird as fuck how synchronised he and Harry actually are. After the ship and compass debacle with the fans going batshit crazy _,_ he hadn’t thought it could get worse. He had been wrong. Because Harry had gone and gotten that damn anchor on his wrist and it had seemed like the entire world had exploded. His mentions hadn’t stopped chiming at him and he had had to turn off the sound just to be able to sleep. Image indeed.

“…But I need to have a word with them. They treat you like shit, they have to deal with me.” Zayn’s saying, and aims a punch that Louis can’t avoid, but spares him a soft grin. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Tommo.”

Louis stands there, heart aching, wondering what he’d ever done to deserve a friend like Zayn. He’s lucky, he knows.  

 

−

 

Couple of hours pass and Louis finds himself wandering through the hallways beneath the stadium, aimless and tuned out to everything else, his music up as loud as his ear can bear, Isaac Slade crooning in his ears _._

He doesn’t notice it until he’s crashing into a warm body, and toppling to the floor, his elbow banging on the concrete.

Pain reverberates through the entire arm, and he hisses, headphones yanking out of his ears.

“Louis, Tommo.”

Hands grips his forearms and yank him up and he’s suddenly staring into the warm brown eyes that haunt his dreams.

 _God, I love you, you stupid donut,_ is what Louis wants to say.

“The fuck are you doing?” is what comes out instead and he winces internally as Liam steps away with a roll of his eyes.

“Not the one wandering ‘round with his head in the clouds, mate,” Liam grins.

That’s when Louis notices the state Liam’s in.

Drippingwith sweat, shirtless, muscles still flexing, Liam is standing in front of him, arms crossed with a look of quiet curiosity, outdone only by Chris Evans. Louis fights the urge that slams through him, _to lick up the line of those abs—_

He coughs, yanking up his headphones, wrapping them around his phone, “Yeah.”

Liam frowns, a line running down his forehead, and Louis has to physically pull himself together, because Liam wasn’t _allowed_ to do that _,_ look all cute and worried and _caring._

“Louis, what was that before?”

“Nothing,” Louis spares him a grin as he attempts to dodge past, “Zayn was a bit pissed about the call I gave Perrie the other day.”

“It’s amazing how you still think that you can lie to me,” Liam says with a half smile as he steps in Louis’ way.

Louis ignores the way his heart knocks against his ribs and raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah. Captain Payngerous, the protector of all truth everywhere. Enemies of the truth beware.”

“ _Louis.”_

He meets Liam’s eyes and forces a smile, “It’s nothing, Payno, promise.”

Liam moves to the side with a disappointed sigh, “I hate it when you do this.”

“Man’s gotta have secrets, Liam.” He shrugs, walking backwards, still facing Liam, “What’s life without mystery, eh?”

“ _LOUIS!”_

Zayn’s voice echoes down the corridor and Louis spins around as the Bradford boy comes careening around the corner, looking utterly pissed off but with a smile on his face.

Louis’ not entirely sure if that bodes well.

“Lou,” Zayn pants, “Robyn’s a dick, but I managed to get through to Tony. Said you can tell—”

“ _Zayn,”_ he hisses through his teeth, “Please shut up.”

Zayn stops, blinking, and then spots Liam standing behind Louis, looking absolutely interested.

“Oh.”

Louis wants to roll his eyes. He gives in. “ _Oh_ is right, idiot.” Then he stops, takes a step back as Zayn’s half sentences sink in. “Wait, _what?”_

Zayn’s smile is bright, “Babe, band meeting.”

He can’t believe it. Four years of hiding behind a contract that could axe his career and _now_ he’s allowed to tell the boys?

“Zayn Malik, light of my life, I don’t know what you said,” he says, hand on his heart, a grin spiking across his mouth, “but I love you, marry me.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, “Fuck off, bro. Perrie’ll have my head.”

“She’ll give you head, you mean,” he mutters, grinning as Liam huffs out a helpless laugh, before calling after the dark haired lad as he walks away, “Don’t deny our love, Zayn, it was meant to be.”

“There are other things that are meant to be, you idiot, and it’s not us,” Zayn throws over his shoulder, “Now, get your multi-coloured arse into the dressing room. You have an announcement to make and a shit load of grovelling to do.”

Louis feels giddy as he runs after him, jumping on to Zayn’s back, laughing as Zayn stumbles, “Who’re you calling multi-coloured, just because I’m gay does not mean—”

There’s a crash behind them and they spin around, Louis falling to his feet, to find Liam’s drink bottle on the floor, Liam standing with his shirt flung over his shoulder and jaw on the floor.

“ _What?”_ He whispers.

Louis looks at Zayn, who makes a _you fucking idiot_ face at him. Then he realises what he just said.

“Fuck my life.” He groans as he rubs a hand over his face.

“You’re _gay?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you have time! I like to hear opinions :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. What-how-HAROLD [In which he really should give Harry more credit, and he thinks about Liam]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long-ish chapter since people are seeming to like this story :) This is an...interesting chapter, I'll see how you guys like it. 
> 
> For AppleScruff, Team1DUnionJcat and EleanorCinnamonxx because they commented, thanks guys! *throws cookies*
> 
>  
> 
> Update:
> 
> I've just gone through and fully edited all three chapter so far :) So all mistakes should be gone! Let me know if you guys can pick out any. 
> 
> Enjoy reading!

“ _Yes,_ Liam,” Louis mutters, and then catches Liam’s disbelieving eyes. “I am, in fact, gay, and no, the tabloids are not wrong, shocking isn’t it, and yes, El is a beard. Any questions?”

Liam is silent for so long Louis wants a hole to open up in the ground or have Perrie actually cut his head off. Louis turns to Zayn who flashes an uncertain smile at him. Gee, thanks a lot, Zayn.

“Just one.” Liam says finally and Louis turns his head so fast he winces at the rush. Liam looks _sad,_ and Louis’ stomach drops out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice is low and hurt, and Louis wants to press him against a wall and snog the life out of him. He's pretty sure that would get him a smile. Or he might get punched in the face. He’d settle for either at this point.

Zayn steps forward then, shaking his head at Louis when he tries to speak up, “Li, he’s under contract not to tell a soul. Almost got him kicked out this morning when I found out.”

“What?”

Louis ducks his head when Liam turns to him, shock and concern clouding his eyes.

“They wouldn’t.”

“They would, Liam, they would.” He sighs slowly, “Look, El slipped up once, back in 2012, and I thought I was gone for _sure_. But apparently there’s a strike system, and I was lucky.”

“Oh.”

Liam’s biting at his lip, and it’s full and red and Louis really wishes that he wouldn’t do that, his self control, while well-seasoned, is rather weak when it comes to Liam and his mouth.

Zayn steps backward towards the dressing room, deliberately knocking Louis’ shoulder, “Get yourselves into the dressing room, I don’t have time for this.”

Louis flushes as he turns on his heel, ignoring the wicked glint in Zayn’s eyes, and practically runs.

He bursts in, and finding only Niall and Harry, just yells. Because he is so _done._

“I’M GAY AND THERE AIN’T NOTHING YOU BABOONS CAN DO ABOUT IT.”

“Oh boy,” Liam walks in, rubbing at his temples, “Mate, don’t think Australia heard you yet. Scream a little louder why don’t you.”

Louis just laughs, because there’s a weight gone from his chest and he can _breathe._

“Don’t front, Payno, you love me.” He steps up and licks up Liam’s cheek, laughing as Liam slaps him away.

“Louis, what the fuck, _get off me_!”

But Louis just scrambles right back, snapping his teeth in the direction of Liam’s ear, taking comfort in the closeness that he’s allowed to have, thank _god_ for the annoying shit that he is.

“Shut your traps, idiots,” Niall calls, and Louis backs off, a soft smile spreading across his field as Liam ducks his head bashfully.

 _God._ He loves him.

“Babe, I’ve known you were gay since I met you in the bathroom. My gaydar is fucking _fabulous._ ” Harry says with a chuckle, dimples blinking, and Louis scowls at him.

“Say a word about the hair and I will shoot your cat.”

But Harry just grins, “Think Dusty’s safe enough, you love him. No. I was talking about the other thing.”

Curiosity burns and Louis raises an eyebrow. “The otherthing. _What_ _other_ _thing_?”

“Yeah, you know how you’ve been arse over feet for—”

Louis’ hand is over his mouth before Louis realises he’s moved and Harry is opening wide green eyes at him.

“Shut your ginormous blabbermouth, Styles.”

Harry bites at his fingers, tongue sliding across his palm and Louis flinches away, wiping his hand straight down Harry’s jumper, leaving a sticky shiny trail of saliva.

“Also,” he says, “How the bloody fuck did you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry’s playing the innocent card and Louis wants to drown in acid as those forest green eyes blink at him, knowing, “Didn’t think you were _trying_ to be subtle, babe. It’s been so obvious, I want to gouge my eyes out with a fork most days.”

Louis knows his cheeks have gone red, what with the way Harry’s smiling at him like he’s the cutest thing he’s seen since Theo Horan’s giggly face, and he sucks on his bottom lip, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck off, Harry. Shut up. Get your face out of my face.”

“Lads,” Zayn says. Louis glances at the smile that’s threatening and scowls. “Maybe, talk about this _later.”_

Liam and Niall are listening intently and Louis wants to become an ostrich just so he can hide his head under the sand.

“My face is not the face you want on your face,” Harry licks out, and the smirk on his face is so _evil_ that Louis just _knows_ that it’s his fault. Why does he feel the need to corrupt such innocent people? WHY.

“Who’s he, then, Tommo?” Niall asks, a grin spreading across his face. “S’it someone we know?”

Louis is _fucked._ (Well…he wants to be, but that’s a different story.)

“Eh,” he flounders, sparing a glare at Harry and a pleading look at Zayn. “No one?”

Niall does not look impressed.

“Spill.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Is it me, then?” Niall asks, and for all of three seconds he’s completely serious before he’s bent over, laughing so hard his bad knee collapses, leaving him sprawled on the floor.

Louis rolls his eyes despite the grin twitching his mouth, “You’re horrible and I hate you. God help me if it _was_ you, I’d throw myself off the London Eye.”

“Love you too, idiot,” Niall manages from the floor, in tears.

“Well, who is it then?”

It’s Liam who speaks up this time and Louis really just _can’t._

“Was that Lou? Think she’s calling me, gotta go, later lads!”

He’s out the door before anyone can stop him, face flaming as he runs down the corridors, out into the stadium. He hides in a crevice by the main stage and buries his face in his knees.

_He hates life._

 

—

A day later, after one of the most rewarding concerts to date, when El tells him that she’ll be arriving in Sao Paulo after their concert the next day, Louis wants to cry.

“Thank fuck,” he rolls around, sprawled on his hotel bed. “I’m going mad, what with Niall and Liam pestering me to tell them. Honestly, s’like they expect me to just be like ‘ _oh yeah, I’m in love with Liam, anything else?’_ ”

The curtains are open because he had turned the lights out, the light from the city bright enough for him to make out the shapes in his room. Besides, the darkness is soothing, nameless, somehow detaches him from the running track of screaming that is playing in the background, the thousand or so girls _still_ crowded in front of the hotel. It’s just before midnight and the sky is a dark inky black and he can see the ocean, stretching out past the city, infinite and mysterious. And maybe he wants to lose himself in it, just to feel anonymous again, to have one day where no one knows him, screams his name, cries when he says hi. Christ, he’s turning into Zayn.

Eleanor laughs at him, “Still can’t believe Harry knew. God, you’re more transparent than I thought.”

He scowls although she can’t see, shaking off his thoughts, “I am _not_ transparent.”

“Whatever helps you sleep.”

He slips out of bed, goes to stand by the windows, and sighs. “That’s the problem. Sleep has become an intangible creature to me.”

She snorts, “ _Intangible?_ When’d you swallow the dictionary?”

“Oh fuck off, El,” he manages around a yawn, even as his mouth quirks to the side, “I do know how to read.”

“ _Really?”_

He grumbles at her.

She laughs, “Alright babe, get to bed, yeah? Otherwise you’ll have everyone wanting to throw shit at you tomorrow when you’re high and pissing off everyone all the time.”

“’Kay. ‘ Night then, Ellie baby,” he drawls in a poor imitation of an American accent.

“You suck,” she snarks at him, before hanging up.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Louis laughs to himself as he throws the phone on his bed, watching for a moment as it bounces.

He turns around, eyes catching on the ocean again, and releases a long exhale, shoulders drooping.

It’s interesting, really, how easily he falls into _thinking_ when he’s exhausted and awake at ungodly hours with the last tendrils of adrenalin coursing through his body, still buzzing from the sixty thousand strong crowd screaming his own lyrics back at him. It’s not something he does during the day, sit down and _think_ about life, _his_ life, and that’s undoubtedly where his reputation as the crazy spontaneous one had sprung from. He _lives_ when the sun is up, minute to minute, hour to hour.  

But even as he stares at the dark eternity of the ocean, Liam springs to mind. Because Liam is as deep and perplexing as the sea. One minute he’s a wide-eyed puppy thrown into the wilds of the music industry and the next he’s a hardened young lad from Wolverhampton standing up on stage and living his dreams. He’s changed, in the past four years, has Liam, from boy to man in such an astounding transition that Louis got lost somewhere along the way. He still remembers the first time he met Liam, backstage at the X Factor, still with his floppy Bieber hair and shy smile. Louis had wondered what would become of them, while they stood on that stage and waited for Simon to put them out of their misery. He remembers watching Liam out of the corner of his eyes, the five of them wrapped around each other, remembers him falling to the ground in relief, remembers the way Liam had looked at him later, a small smile and wide brown eyes that held stars.

Louis settles on the windowsill, arms wrapped around his pyjama-pant clad knees, and leans his head against the window frame, staring out over Sao Paulo.

Liam’s eyes are Louis’ weak point. It isn’t a secret. All the boy has to do is pout and open his big wide stupid brown eyes at Louis and he’s putty. Liam’s gotten him to do things with one look from those puppy eyes, and the other boys abuse it like there’s no tomorrow.

That’s probably why they hadn’t gotten along too well back at the X Factor House, why Louis kept annoying the shit out of Liam, why they were at each other’s throat all the time. He needed to have control or everything would have crumbled in his hands.

His phone buzzes, and he unfolds himself and pads to his bed. A smile lights up his face as he reads the message.

_Go to sleep, Tommo, I can hear you thinking from my room._

Louis doesn’t remember when he fell in love with Liam. It was a slow thing, he supposes, as he taps out a reply.

_You go to sleep._

He fell in love when he found Liam crying in his bunk after boot camp. He fell in love when Liam brought him hot soup when he was sick in the X Factor house. He fell in love when he found out that Liam had named his dog Loki. He fell in love when Liam took him home after a bad night, staying with him and making mouth-watering waffles the next morning.

No.

He fell in love that one day in Germany when Liam had looked at him like Louis held the answers to the universe, the day that Danielle had broken up with him. Liam had come to find him, barely holding his emotions together, and then broken down while Louis held him, singing to him quietly. Louis still remembers the stars reflected in Liam’s eyes that night, the way he had looked so _young_ and yet so old at the same time.

He smiles as he thinks about it, fingers brushing over his cheeks as he loses himself in the memory of Liam’s eyes. _Yeah._

His phone beeps in his hand.

 _You’re a donut_ _J_ _Sleep, Lou._

Louis smiles into the darkness of his room.

_‘Night, love._

_Right back atcha._

Louis slides into bed, heart hammering.

It’s safe to say he doesn’t fall asleep for a good three hours, not until the sun starts to rise from the east.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the lovely people who read my fic, gave me kudos, commented and subscribed. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I love you all!
> 
> P.S: I won't really have a regular update pattern, my muse is elusive, don't really know who or what it is yet. I have bursts of inspiration at the MOST inappropriate moments, like in the middle of a maths lesson or walking down the street when I have absolutely NO way of doing anything about it >_


	4. Zayn, please feel free to end my misery any time now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaannnddd, another chapter! It's a bit of a filler, I suppose, but I like it ^_^ Hope you guys do as well
> 
> Also, I keep forgetting to add, it's not Britpicked and it's unbetaed, it's all my own editing so if there are mistakes, they are all mine. But a lot of the times, even though I post it up, I read over and then find mistakes, edit and repost. So...yeah.
> 
> EDIT: Just did exactly that XD Found some tense changes and missing letters :)
> 
> I added a few extra bits as well XD

Louis wakes up as slowly as he fell asleep, gradually, squirming, tangled in the covers, sweating even in the icy atmosphere of the air conditioning.

He wakes up with the sun in his eyes, the back of his eyelids burning red, and then stills. There’s no sound.

He shoots up, scrambling for his phone. It has to be _late,_ god if he’s late…

6:07.

Oh.

“ _Why_ am I awake.” He groans and falls into the mountain of pillows. He slept for three hours. _Three hours._

But he’s too awake to go back to sleep and there’s a restless energy thrumming through him that needs to be released before they head over to rehearsals or he’ll be bouncing off the walls and everyone will hate his guts.

So, Louis drags himself out of bed and forces himself into shorts and a new tank top, fumbles with the laces on his shoes, before heading out the door with his phone tucked into the waistband of his boxers.

At least it’s a Wednesday and nobody should be in the gym at this time anyway, or he hopes, as he gets out of the elevator and pads down towards the gym.

The gym is empty as far as he can see, and he sighs, relieved, and heads over to the treadmill, tucking his headphones into his ears.

As he starts running, with his feet pounding along to the bass beat of the song, he feels marginally better, all the irritating energy flowing out.

He’s lost himself in the music and the steady thump of his shoes on the treadmill when a hand appears on the console in front of him and he loses concentration, stumbling and falling off the track. His foot hits the side and he crumples to the floor, stars bursting in front of his eyes.

The music cuts off and he’s left gasping on the floor, tears lining his eyes.

“ _Louis!”_

“God,” he pants out as he recognises the voice, a death grip on the offered arm, “Payno, if you want to kill me all you have to do is kiss me.”

There’s a resounding silence and Louis’ face is on _fire,_ his mind reeling because _what the fuck had he just said?_

He can barely look at Liam, but Liam laughs then and Louis glances up sharply, heart banging against his ribs from embarrassment and shock.

Liam’s smile is bright and his eyes are amused and Louis’ a little lost. Shouldn’t Liam be running away like there’s an army of angry spoons behind him?

“Must’ve hit your head too,” Liam murmurs. Louis snorts. “You okay? Didn’t mean to startle you, assumed you could hear me.”

And Louis is dead. He’s melting on the inside, he’s a puddle of pink gloop, he is, in short, an absolute mess. _Why is Liam so NICE?_

“I’m _fine,”_ he says instead of the _please push me against the nearest hard surface and fuck me into the next century_ that’s on the tip of his tongue. Because Liam? Yeah, Louis’ brain is finally coming back online, as if his own personal Jarvis had shut down momentarily, and he’s starting to _see_ Liam.

Liam, who has wet hair, is freshly shaven and is dressed in nothing but basketball shorts. What is with him and the shirtless thing? Does he enjoy toying with Louis’ emotions? Fuck, those _biceps._ Liam’s happy trail disappears into his shorts and Louis wants to _lick._ Louis wants what he’s wanted for years, to be backed into a wall and snogged within an inch of his life. At least he’d die a happy death, right?

“You sure? You’re looking a little pale.” Liam suddenly has a hand on his forehead and Louis holds himself very still lest he gives up all semblance of nonchalance and actually climbs Liam like a tree. “Maybe you should—”

“Liam, I’m fucking fine, yeah?”

And okay, that’s a little harsh, and Louis cringes as Liam steps back, frowning.

“Fine, be an arse. God, Tommo, what the fuck is with you lately?” Liam’s voice is hard, almost emotionless but Louis knows him well enough that he can hear the hurt buried underneath.

“Sorry,” he blurts out, “Had ‘bout three hours of sleep.”

Liam’s face softens immediately, “Didn’t actually sleep last night? What were you thinking so hard about anyway?”

“You,” slips out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he screams internally at his complete _lack_ of brain-to-mouth filter, even after all these years. He’s been doing _so_ well and suddenly BAM! It’s like Brazilian water had some kind of truth serum…veritaserum was what Rowling had called it, right?

“Me?” Liam asks, surprised, brow scrunching up, and it’s so adorable, Louis wants to smother him.

“Yep!” Louis goes with the blasé act he’s been playing up since the X Factor, “All about you and your little rebellion stage that you’re going through, you know?”

Liam ducks his head, and Louis wants to coo because Liam is _blushing._ He may also want to kiss the red patches but that’s irrelevant.

“Fuck off, Lou.”

“Mate, seriously, it’s not like you’re on a bender or summat, you know, m’just saying, it’s nice to see you _enjoying_ life.”

“Thanks, mate. But don’t act like you weren’t worried when that picture of me showed up on the Internet, standing on that ledge.” Liam’s smile is innocent and Louis wants to shoot him.

Yeah. Louis wants many things and ninety five per cent of those things include Liam pressing him against a hard surface.

“Yeah well,” he shrugs, “Not like the band would get anywhere without your voice.”

“Louis.”

He throws his hands up, because Liam had flat out _refused_ to let him talk about this, “Fuck, Liam, of _course_ I was worried! You were standing on a fucking ledge like eighty storeys up with a fucking bottle in your hand, looking like you were about to jump off! I was going out of my fucking mind! I wasn’t even in town to do anything about it!” He remembers the mind-numbing terror he had felt when Harry had rung him up, telling him to check twitter, that Liam was on top of a fucking _building_. God, he had never been more frightened in his life. “Fuck you, if you had died, I wouldn’t have survived that. _I_ almost died trying to drive from Doncaster, you bloody stupid—”

Liam cuts him off then, and he’s eternally grateful because God knows what other things he would’ve admitted to had he kept blabbering.

Guaranteed, that’s how his mother had found out. He’d been ranting at her about Liam’s _utter stupidity_ and she’s just smiled and asked, _you might’ve encouraged him, were you there, Louis,_ and he’d just lost it. He almost blushes, remembering how he’d screamed in frustration and said, _No! I love the idiot too much to do that!_ His mum had laughed so hard she’d cried and said _finally, I was beginning to wonder how I was going to get it out of you._ He’d lost his grip on the counter and fallen over and had gotten a massive bruise on his hip to show for it.

“Calm down, Tommo, this was ages ago.”

“Ages ago?” He bursts out, because he’s in love with an _idiot_. “ _Ages ago?_ Payno, whether it was two days ago or fucking seventy years ago, I would still be reacting the same way!”

“Okay, okay,” Liam holds up his hands, a smile ticking in his cheek, “I give in. It was stupid, and I’m sorry. Can you stop yelling now?”

Louis can’t help but laugh at that, wiping a hand across his face because _Jesus,_ he’s such a loser, and then cringes at the dried sweat, “Sorry. Yeah.” He’s silent for a few moments. “You’re still an idiot.”

Liam smiles with a fond shake of his head, “Feeling the love. Go shower, you smell. M’hungry.”

“Well, I certainly won’t worry about you anymore if this is the thanks I get.” Louis huffs out of the gym, hearing Liam chuckling behind him. A helpless grin breaks across his face as soon as the elevator doors close. He squeals a little, jumps around before the looking up abruptly for the security camera, wincing to find that there _is_ one.

Well then. (Maybe he can bribe Paul into getting the camera wiped. Nobody should see him turning into a teenage girl.)

 

—

 

Louis heads back down after having a shower that certainly did _not_ involve him wanking off to Liam’s arms. He has too much dignity to admit to such a thing anyway, not that it happened.

Liam’s waiting for him in the lobby, lounging around looking like Michelangelo had carved him from marble, with his head resting on the back of the couch, jeans hugging his legs and his bloody Adidas hoodie clinging onto his torso.

He runs back around the corner before Liam spots him. The urge to just jump him and kiss those soft, dark pink lips is so strong and Louis is so, _so_ unsure if he can even handle breakfast. Maybe he can just call and say he’s not feeling too well.

No. Louis shudders at the thought. Then Liam would come into his room looking all worried and fussing about, trying to look after him. _No_ , god no. Having Liam in his hotel room would be _far_ worse than sitting across a table from him.

He takes a breath, holding it until his heart rate lowers to somewhere in the vicinity of the normal range and wanders casually around the corner.

“Payno, my man!” He exclaims, “Get off your arse, you lazy sod, I’m hungry enough to eat several horses.”

Liam stands up, eyes crinkled at the sides as he laughs, “I’m sure riding them is more your style.”

Louis actually stops short, mouth falling open. He blinks. Liam is still standing there with a wide grin on his face like he _knows_ how good he is. He blinks again.

“Did you just—Did you just make a gay joke at me?” Louis asks slowly, brows furrowing in complete and utter disbelief. He’s lost. What the hell does he say to that? Holy fucking god, where the hell is Zayn when he needs the bugger.

“Might have done,” Liam winks, “C’mon then, breakfast.”

Louis shuffles along beside Liam, “No. Nope. I can’t believe this. Imposter, what have you done with my Liam? Give him back to me.”

 _My_ Liam? _MY_ Liam? Louis metaphorically punches himself repeatedly in the face.

But Liam’s giggling beside him, trying to stifle his laughter as they walk into the dining area and Louis feels like he’s won the lottery. Making Liam laugh is the _best._

“Nah. Your Liam’s gone, Tommo. Deal with me or have no Liam at all.”

Louis sighs, it’s dramatic and overdone, “What _ever_ will I do? How _ever_ will I survive without my Liam?” He catches Liam’s eyes and grins, “Can’t survive without a Liam, so I guess you’ll have to do then, Payno.”

“Guess I will.”

“Would you two please stop flirting so I can eat in peace?”

He startles so badly he ends up gripping Liam’s arm, hand pressed over his heart. “What the fuck, Ireland, are you _trying_ to kill me?”

Niall rolls his eyes over a waffle, barely even glancing up, “Sit your asses down and eat so I can eat.”

Louis mimics him with various ridiculous faces that have Liam in stitches as he stifles his laughter into his hoodie.

“Stop, Lou, fuck, I’m dying.” Liam gasps out, wiping tears from his eyes.

Louis grins, “I aim to please, Liam darling, s’what I’m here for.”

Niall looks up sharply then, and catches Louis’ eyes, and he can see something dawning in his eyes, a realisation. He has a shaky premonition that this is probably bad. _Very_ bad.

“Holy fucking cheese balls, you’ve got to be joking.” Niall mutters into a mouthful, and his eyes flick over to Liam who’s still laughing as he takes in the menu, oblivious as usual, and then back to Louis who fights a blush. “ _Him?”_

Extremely bad.

Louis wants to strangle Niall and apparently that shows on his face because Niall’s disbelieving face twists into a smug expression and he snorts.

“Should’ve known with the way you’ve been pulling his damn pigtails for years,” He mutters just loud enough to catch Louis’ ears.

“Shut up, Horan, you know nothing.” Louis retorts, and then downs the orange juice in front of him like it’s a shot of tequila.

“No. I know everything. Everything makes sense now.” The blonde lad laughs, “God, you pathetic idiot.”

“I hate you.” Louis grumbles and then pastes on a smile as Liam looks up, “Gonna order then, Li?”

“Full English?”

“’Course, m’a growing boy, Payno, I need food.”

Liam gets up and strides over to the counter, stopping on the way for a little girl with wide awed eyes, picking her up and making her laugh while her mum holds the camera like it’s an 084.

Louis’ heart is melting. God, he’s not going to survive.

“Oi,” Niall snorts, poking him with syrupy fork, “Talk to me, Tommo. Liam’s not going anywhere.”

“Shut up, Niall.”

The girl is giggling, delighted and so adorable, Liam talking to her in low tones, and Louis attempts to tune it out, trying to concentrate on Niall’s chatter about the upcoming charity football match.

“…Cordo, don’t you reckon?”

“What?” Louis suddenly tunes back in.

“You’re hopeless.” Niall says around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “This is why _Harry,_ of all people, is assistant manager.”

“Hey Lou,” Liam puts a plate down in front of him, before sitting down himself. The eggs glare at him as if they’re judging him, like they’re saying _you’re an idiot, a pathetic loser, Louis Tomlinson._

“You’re my favourite.” Louis announces, picking up his knife and fork, glaring at Niall, who rolls his eyes. He stabs an egg yolk, feeling stupidly satisfied when it breaks.

“I aim to please,” Liam mumbles around a sausage.

Louis chokes on his next mouthful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, comment if you liked it! I'd like to know your opinions :)


	5. Louis has a secret (No. It’s not that he’s gay. It’s far worse than that. His dignity is at stake. Shut up, El.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! :) It's been a while, hasn't it? 
> 
> Here's a small chapter in compensation because I have exams at the moment ;) 
> 
> Also, this entire story is enbetaed and I will sit down properly soon and edit the entire thing so all these mistakes aren't here! Promise! 
> 
> Love you and thank you for reading! :)

Louis’ in the dressing room with Liam, both of them draped over the couches. Liam is on his phone, playing some honest to god _boring_ ass game called _Piano Tiles_ , a smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, fingers tapping away.

Louis feels a little guilty, as he lies on the couch with his eyes half closed, because he’s pretty much as bad as every fan they’ve ever met ever. His eyes haven’t left Liam since he pretended to be exhausted enough to ‘sleep’.

(Yes. He has been reduced to staring creepily at Liam while he fakes being asleep. Shut up.)

He takes in the relaxed droop of Liam’s broad shoulders, the tight cling of the shirt around his biceps, the curve of his neck, the sharp cut of his jaw, the soft, wet glisten of Liam’s bitten pink lips. There’s a heat lodged in his chest, burning him from the inside out, a sharpness in the rhythm of his heart.

It’s a little hard to breath sometimes, a choking grip around his throat that catches up with him in moments like this, when he’s alone with Liam and they’re not running around and creating chaos, when they’re quiet, when they’re just keeping each other company.

Liam laughs at something, just a soft huff of breath, and Louis smiles at the way crinkles crease the sides of his eyes, a sparkle suspended in the depths of dark brown.

The quiet moment is shattered by Niall’s heavy accent. (Louis pulls back on the desire to sock Niall in the face. He _likes_ Niall.)

“Guess who’s here!”

The dressing room door is thrown open and Louis scrambles to his feet, smile widening, as his ‘girlfriend’ sails in the doors.

He’s picking her up and swinging her around before she has time to protest. He doesn’t notice the other boys come in over Eleanor’s screaming abuse aimed at him.

“Put me _down,_ Louis, you bloody git! I’ve been on a plane for twelve fucking hours, do you think I have the energy for _this?”_

He laughs, letting her down, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss to her face, “Hey, babe.”

She knocks a fist against his head, but smiles, “Hey yourself, idiot. How much trouble are you in?”

Louis sighs, “Shit loads. Fucking John’s been ringing me all day. He’s threatening to axe me after the tour if this gets out.”

“Lou, you can’t let him walk over you like this!” Eleanor groans, “Babe, you—”

“El, I’ve been trying for _years,_ hasn’t made a difference has it?” He snaps, frustrated, tired and monumentally _done_ with everything. He winces. Then makes a pathetic face. “Look. Can we not…can we just not talk about this? I need to talk to you, I’m _dying.”_

“You are _so_ gay.” Eleanor smirks then, eyes glinting, “Are we going to get ice cream and talk about _boys,_ Lou?”

His cheeks flame and he ducks his head, “Fuck off, El. And no, we’re going for dinner.”

She’s laughing at him, “Lou, honey, I’m an expert on the subject. We’ll get you your boy.”

“And pray tell us who this boy is, El.”

Louis’ eyes go wide at Niall’s voice, and El catches his eyes.  

“Thought he knew?”

“He does,” Louis glares at the blonde who has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Wait, Niall knows?” Liam asks, and his voice is quiet, a little sad and a lot betrayed, and Louis wants to tear his hair out and possibly lick Liam’s red, soft-looking mouth.

“Figured it out, Payno,” Niall knocks shoulders with Liam, giving him a small grin, which Liam makes a sad face at, “He’s a right sap, this one.”

Louis glares harder, “Shut your mouth, Niall, or that guitar of yours will end up in the ocean.”

Niall just grins, “Dunno, Liam deserves to know, I reckon.”

“Lou,” Eleanor interrupts, and he almost thanks the high heavens before he hears the rest of her sentence, “Let’s go get that bubble-gum ice cream and head over to your room, yeah?”

“ _El.”_ He groans, rubbing a hand over his face.

Niall and Harry don’t even bother to hide their snorts, Zayn just grins. Liam looks like a lost puppy with confused brown eyes and furrowed brows and Louis wants to take him home. Innocently! He wants to take him home in an innocent way.

Yeah, he’s totally lying to himself.

“Tommo,” Eleanor is snapping her fingers in front of his face and even _Zayn’s_ sniggering at him, “Louis, for fuck’s sake, you’ll tap that ass one day, just not now.”

He scowls amidst uproarious laughter, “I hate you all.”

“Louis—”

“Liam,” Louis says, and flashes him a grin, “Figure it out, babe. I’m apparently the most transparent thing next to saran wrap.”

“But—”

“Gotta go! Things to do, places to be, s’hard being me!” He waltzes to the door, tugging Eleanor behind him.

“Yeah, so _hard.”_ Niall yells.

“Mmmm, must be so _hard,_ Loueh!” Harry’s cackling and Louis hopes that he chokes on a banana and dies.

He flips them off, yanking Eleanor out the door.

_Did he mention that he needs new best friends?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so short! More next time, definitely :D 
> 
> Comments are appreciated, anything from liking the story so far to ideas about what you guys want to happen in the course of this :) Ideas are MOST welcome! 
> 
> Thank you!


	6. A Disaster with a capital D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darling readers! :) 
> 
> Yes, I know, it's so late, so very very late. I'm so sorry. But! Hopefully this makes up for it :D
> 
> WARNING: CHAPTER CONTAINS A PANIC ATTACK 
> 
> Also, I don't know if I got the mechanics of writing that scene down properly. I did some research on the topic so hopefully it's not completely inaccurate. Let me know if there are any glaring oversights. 
> 
> Once again, this is unbetaed so all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Alright, enjoy!

His mouth is on Liam’s neck before he realises what he’s doing. Teeth grazing the hot skin, his tongue pressed to the pulse, Louis’ giving it all he’s got by the time he understands exactly what it is he’s doing. His right hand is curled around the back of Liam’s neck, the tips of his fingers pressed into the downy hair at the nape. They curl unconsciously. He bites into the heart-shaped birthmark and Liam jolts like he’s been electrocuted, squirming under him, trying to push Louis away, hands clenched around his shoulders, nails digging into the bare skin.

Louis scrambles away, mortified as Niall’s laughter echoes around him, because _shit._ That’s going to be on YouTube in no less than a few seconds and be immortalised on Tumblr as the day that Louis absolutely lost his shit and gave in to the urge to maul Liam’s neck, which _, holy hell, his birthmark is sensitive._ Louis did not need to know that. Okay, fuck, um, dead puppies, dead bunnies, dead babies, DEAD PUPPIES.

His ears are buzzing as the stadium explodes, shrill screams decimating what’s left of his hearing for the night. Buenos Aires can scream.

“For God’s sake, Tommo,” Liam playfully growls into the microphone, rubbing the saliva off his birthmark as his expression twists in disgust. He wipes it on a cloth that is tossed up on stage. “What was that for?”

The side of Liam’s neck is turning an angry red from Louis’ beard and he tries to stifle the feeling of triumph that surges through him.

Louis can see Zayn watching him from behind Liam, amused disappointment reflected in his eyes as he gives a small shake of his head, as if Zayn is not even surprised that Louis has a complete lack of self-control, and Louis wants to say _bite me,_ but instead huffs into his microphone, rolling his eyes at Liam,

“Well Liam, I just thought you were looking particularly edible tonight and decided to, eh, bite you. Problem? I’m sure I could clear my schedule for you.”

And then he _winks._ He straight up winks at Liam, his best friend and band mate, in front of sixty thousand screaming fans with phones recording the entire thing. Yeah, okay.

If possible, the screams get even _louder_ as Liam scowls in that adorable way, bottom lip out in a pout and eyebrows drawn together over his eyes, and the burn to just drag him down and kiss him flares into a wildfire.

Harry’s on the other side of the catwalk, talking to a fan, but turns around as Louis’ words echo over the noise.

“We all know you can’t resist Liam, Lewis,” He mutters but it’s caught and amplified, and Louis just raises an eyebrow even as his heart beats an angry staccato against his ribs.

Niall loses it at that point, grabbing onto Zayn’s shoulder and practically sobbing in pain as he laughs and laughs and laughs. Zayn wraps an arm around his waist and grins wider than usual. Louis makes a face at him.

“Well, gorgeous bloke that he is, who can?” Louis’ mouth says for him, the biting edge to his tone so instinctual that it just slips out.  

His friends _suck._ They _suck._ Zayn just holds on to a wheezing Niall and rolls his eyes. Harry snorts.

“Alright, alright, enough tearing down my ego,” Liam says, and Louis fucking loves Liam, he could kiss him, “I believe the next song is Little White Lies? Lads?”

Sandy gives a thumbs up from the main stage and the speakers blare to life.

As Louis saunters along the stage, the last dregs of embarrassment cling to his cheeks, the heat fading, and he thanks all the gods that he decided _not_ to shave for the past three days.

 

—

 

“What the hell, Tommo?” Niall slings an arm around his shoulders as they come off the stage.

Liam is running ahead with Harry and Zayn, high as a kite on adrenalin, chasing down the other two as they run away, Harry squealing like a four year old girl and tottering away on those stupid brown boots. Louis feels stupidly fond as Liam’s laughter echoes off the walls.

“Ew, Niall, get off, man,” Louis grumbles, flushing, “You’re all sweaty.”

Niall just laughs, dropping his arm, “So come on. Spill to Uncle Niall.”

“Fuck off.”

“No seriously, what the hell were you thinking?”

Louis sighs as they hand over their mike packs, following Alberto down the hallway to the cars, “Dunno, mate…didn’t really think about it. It sort of happened and I realised half way through.”

Niall snorts, “You realised you were practically munching Liam’s neck while you were munching Liam’s neck?”

“I have no self control,” Louis moans as they are ushered quickly out the doors and into the second car.

“Yeah…you really don’t, do you?”

He just collapses against the door the moment it closes, exhausted and wrung out, emotions running wild, and he’s glad Niall takes it as a hint, pushing in his headphones and nodding to Michael Bublé.

This is why he loves Niall. He knows when to stop pushing.

 

—

 

Eleanor is waiting in front of his hotel room door with a knowing grin and carton of bubble-gum ice cream.

“You are a _goddess.”_ Louis declares as he pulls out his key card.

“Have fun talking about boys, Louis!” Harry winks as he disappears into his room. Louis sticks his tongue out at the door.

Liam just opens the door to his room, sadly opposite to Louis’ own, and disappears with a grin. Zayn and Niall are nowhere to be seen.

Just as Louis shuts the door, Eleanor drops the ice cream and starts laughing.

He scowls, picking it up, and goes for a spoon, “Shut up.”

“Babe…have you seen the video? The look on your face before you went for his neck…” She snorts a laugh, pulling out her phone, “It’s telling.”

“I am in so much shit,” Louis groans, falling against the pillows piled against the headboard. He stuffs a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, shivering a little as it hits his teeth. The taste is weird but it is the most comforting flavour of ice cream, weirdly enough.

“I already told Robyn to fuck off and Tony rang up to say he was settling things back at HQs, that it’s just another prank of yours. Apparently John’s putting up a fight but as long as Tony is around, you’ll be alright…” Eleanor trails off, uncertainty creeping into her tone.

Louis doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. Another move like that and even Tony wouldn’t be able to hold things back, not that he’d planned this as a rebellion. It had more to do with Liam and his infuriatingly alluring neck muscles. And the stupid birthmark.

God. Liam was never more beautiful, never more _alive_ than he was on stage. His eyes shine like something straight out of a Disney movie under the lights. He’s magnetic, enthusiastic like a Labrador puppy, bouncing all over the stage, dancing in that ridiculous and yet adorable way of his. The electricity is biting,irresistible, even _dangerous_ this tour, more so than it has ever been before, and Louis gets so easily caught in the in the riptide, in the whirlwind that Liam becomes on stage that he’s left disoriented after a song is over.  

Louis lets the silence linger, lets it ring in his ears until it’s all he can hear, like a spoon tapped against glass, it amplifies.

Eleanor doesn’t break the suffocating pitch of silent sound, just leans back next to him, and stares at the wall opposite.

Sophia is due to fly in tomorrow morning and Louis just wants to cry. Because as lovely as she is, he can’t handle Liam being all cute and cuddly with the girl without getting raging-green Hulk jealous. It’s selfish and stupid, he knows that. She’s gorgeous and sweet, brilliant with and for Liam, and the moment she turned up, Louis knew he had no chance.

Telling Liam is out of the question. He’d never…Louis can’t take that chance. He can’t lose Liam over these stupid feelings. They’re partners, they write together, they hold the band together, he can’t do this without Liam. He’d be lost.

God, if he makes one wrong move, he’s beyond fucked. John will rip up the contract with gleeful abandon and that’ll be it. He’d be Louis Tomlinson, used-to-be popstar kicked out of the world’s biggest boyband. He’ll be ruined for life.

He can’t breathe, something bolted around his lungs, a hiccup in his heart. Because that’s it really. His dream would be over. He’d be back selling things at Toys ‘R Us. His lungs won’t let him suck in air, heaving in his chest, and his vision blurs, black spots dancing in front of his vision.

There are hands pulling at the carton he’s got a death grip on, and he lets it go, before the hands return to his own, gripping them tightly.

“Louis. _Louis.”_

Eleanor is shaking him, a panicked look in her eyes.

“Louis, _breathe._ Come on, babe, please, just breathe.” She’s terrified, he can hear the sharpness of tears in her voice but she doesn’t cry.

But he _can’t._ He can’t breathe. He tries, but there’s a block in his throat, and the darkness starts creeping in around the edges of his eyes crowding out the light and feels like he’s drowning—

The hands gripping him are gone and there’s a loud BANG that has Louis trembling and suddenly there are arms around him, a voice speaking slowly.

“Come on, Louis, breathe with me, in and out, in and out, it’s okay, you’re alright.” It’s soothing, the low baritone of the voice, and Louis stops struggling after a while, going limp. “It’s okay. You’re fine. Deep breathe, in and out…in and out…”

Eventually the zip tie on his windpipe snaps and a he sucks in air, breathing hard. His vision snaps.

“Slowly Louis,” the voice murmurs, and the hands are rubbing slowly down his back, up his arms, “In and out. Breathe with me.”

He goes with the voice, blindly reaching for their chest, feeling the rise and fall, matching his wheezing breaths to it.

“That’s it. Brilliant.”

Louis opens his eyes, feeling dizzy, the strain of exhaustion seeping deep into his bones, and he sags into the arms that are holding him up.

“Lou?”

He looks up at the girl standing next to the bed, tear tracks carved through the eyeliner and smudged across her cheek. He reaches out a hand and feels indescribably guilty when she takes it and squeezes, eyes glistening afresh.

“Sorry,” he croaks with a weak smile.

“You’re okay, Louis.”

It’s then that he realises that it’s Paul who’s got him.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s quiet, broken, “I…thank you.”

Paul pats his shoulder, “Don’t need to thank me, son. How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been trampled by a twelve tonne elephant,” Louis says, and he blinks out the sleep that threatens behind his eyes, his insides cold as he think about the—

“Don’t.” Paul’s tone is sharper. “Don’t think about it now. You need to breathe slowly. Count to ten.”

He waits as Louis goes from one to ten, slow and steady, breathing in and out, until his heart settles down, until the panic stops beating at his brain.

“Alright, I’m going to have to let Liam in at some point,” Paul stands, rubbing the back of Louis’ neck, and smiles, “Poor lad’s been pacing out there for almost fifteen minutes.”

Louis’ head snaps up, eyes widening, “Liam?”

Eleanor laughs at that, though it’s a little watery, “He was with Paul when I went to get him. I think he almost passed out when I said you weren’t breathing.”

“Paul?” Louis tears his eyes away from Eleanor’s soft smile and looks up at the tour manager.

Paul just grins and Louis fights the blush, because of course. Of course Paul knows.

“Yeah.”

The second Paul’s out the door, Liam’s falling through it. His hair looks like racoons have nested in it, face flushed, his eyes are wild with worry. Louis’ brain, still sluggish, takes a little time to realise that Liam’s shirtless, dressed only in sweatpants.

“Louis!”

Louis smiles, “Hey, Li.”

Liam pauses at the end of the bed, glancing at Eleanor before looking back at him, “You okay? I…shit.” He runs a hand through his hair, effectively messing it up even more. “I don’t…”

“Liam, it’s okay. I’m fine. Exhausted, but fine.” He reaches out an arm and his heart squeezes as Liam wastes no time in slipping into the embrace, kneeling on the bed.

“’Kay.”

It’s whispered into Louis’ hair, soft and breathed out in a sigh as Liam deflates, wrapping his own arm around Louis’ waste.

He closes his eyes, tucking his face into the curve of Liam’s neck, nose pressed to his collarbone.

There’s a sound of rustling fabric and Louis opens his eyes to see Eleanor moving towards the door. She grins wickedly at him but it softens when Liam lets out a deeper sigh and wraps both arms around Louis, pulling him into the warmth of Liam’s body.

 _Stay,_ she mouths.

Louis finds that he really doesn’t mind, watching the door slip shut behind her.

When Liam shifts and pulls them both down onto the bed, Louis just goes with it.

“Payno?”

“I’m staying here. Don’t think I could sleep in my room while worrying about you here alone,” is Liam’s almost silent reply.

Louis hides a smile into the pillow.

Sleep envelops the two of them in a blanket of darkness and Louis settles into Liam’s arms, giving into the heaviness of his eyes.

_I could get used to this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope the wait was worth it! :D 
> 
> As usual, point out mistakes and such, because this is majorly unbetaed...
> 
> The next chapter will be funnier, I promise ;) I have a little something planned. Also, I have the ending as well, so I know where the story is going now! Yay, finally XD 
> 
> Okay, until next time! Which will be soon I hope...hopefully the end of the week! Keep your fingers crossed!


	7. Idealistic or just plain stupid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again! And barely two days apart! 
> 
> Yes, in case you were wondering, I have an exam in the afternoon and I'm here writing. I confess. 
> 
> BUT! Another chapter! *cheers* 
> 
> Alright the usual things:
> 
> Unbetaed so all mistakes are my own, I'll go back through and edit it like I usually do, it's not Britpicked so I apologise for that.  
> Seriously, I'm sorry if there are mistakes in this. I will re-edit. 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Louis startles awake the next morning, there’s light streaming in around the curtains like angels had descended on the other side, the room cast into a white-yellow glow.

He’s warm, almost unbearably so, and almost screams when he realises that there’s someone else on the bed with him.

Until he sees the four arrows inked into the muscle of the forearm and sags back into the sheets. Yesterday’s memories come sweeping in and Louis swears he falls in love a little more as he remembers the harried state Liam had been in, brown eyes wild and worried.

Liam is sound asleep, mouth open, little puffs of air drifting out over the pillow. Louis’ breath hitches, eyes roaming over the slack features, the almost innocence of Liam’s face overwhelming despite the hardened edges of two day old scruff.

The tips of his fingers are brushing over Liam’s cheek before he realises and he snatches them away, cheeks heavy with a blush.

“Liam?” Louis whispers. He’s tipping the scales into desperation to get out of bed because this isn’t good for him. He’s going to do something stupid if Liam doesn’t move the arm holding him against Liam’s body. “Liam, wake up.”

There’s a snuffle and Liam’s nose scrunches as he huffs out a breathy “No. Sleepy.”

Louis feels like crying because god, he’s so _adorable._

Yeah. This is a horrible, _horrible_ situation to be in.

“Liam, wake up, for fuck’s sake!” He hisses, glad that he sounds semi-normal and not like he’s having a hard time (literally) fighting the urge to jump Liam’s bones. “I’m all for the Steve Rodgers thing you’ve got going on, but seriously, if you don’t let me go, I’m going pee right here.”

Liam doesn’t budge. If anything, his arm tightens around Louis and he finds himself literally tucked against Liam’s warm side, his face mushed against Liam’s pecs (fuck you, Liam. Fuck. You.). He hates that Liam sees right through his threats, even in his goddamned sleep.

“Liam Payne, let me go before I bite you.” Louis says, loud and irritated, somewhat muffles against Liam’s chest, because this is so not part of his plan. Liam is ruining his plan. Not that his plan is very extensive. It really just includes staying as far away as possible from Liam’s body.

“I’m awake, for god’s sake,” Liam mutters finally, eyes still closed.

Louis’ eyes snap up from where they had drifted to Liam’s stomach, swallowing at the thought of licking down between the ridges and bumps of hot, hard muscle. Okay, he really needs to get out of this bed before Liam realises just how glad he is about the Captain America thing (and Liam is _dangerously_ close to finding out, his arm resting just over his navel, and shit, his stomach is _sensitive,_ don’t judge).

“Thank fuck,” he manages, flicking Liam’s forehead, “Now move the tree trunk that you call your arm so I can go pee.”

Liam laughs, soft and throaty, and Louis ignores the pulse of heat that sparks in his stomach and almost falls out of bed in his haste to leave as Liam lifts his arm.

“You ‘right?”

Louis huffs out “I am perfectly fine!” and stalks to the bathroom, a reluctant grin poking at the edges of his mouth when Liam just chuckles.

The door closes behind him and he crumples to the floor, back against the door, hands pressed over his face.

He needs to get a grip. How the fuck is he supposed to get through this tour when all he can think about is how good it would be to be pressed against a wall by Liam fucking Payne.

Liam is one of his best mates and he has a girlfriend. A girlfriend who happens to be arriving today. Alright Tomlinson? Liam is _taken._

But his mind drifts back to the relief he’d seen in Liam’s eyes the previous night, the way Liam had hugged him, and the hollow feeling in his heart aches.

Looking down at his legs, he realises that he’s still in his stage clothes and grimaces. But it means that he has his phone. He pulls it out and types out a message.

_Harry._

He presses send and lets his head fall back against the door with a soft thud.

“Tommo, you alright?” Liam’s voice drifts through the door and Louis blinks.

“Uh, yeah!” He calls back, “I’m fine! Just knocked me foot against the door.”

“Don’t kill yourself in there, mate, we kinda need you,” is Liam’s amused reply.

“You’d be lost without me.”

“’Course.”

“Glad you know it.”

 _Bit early for you, granddad._ Harry’s reply comes and Louis loves him.

 _Sophia_ is all he sends back and his throat feels a little funny.

_Heading to the pool with Winston_

Louis smiles. Harry is a fucking godsend. He would be dead without Harry. He hasn’t spent a lot of time with Harry lately; it’d be good to.

_Indoors?_

_Nah mate, gonna go out with you so we get splashed all over Sugarscape for “oozing sexual tension”_

_Just another part of our scandalous affair, Harold. I’ll see you in a bit._

Then in a moment of weakness, he opens the conversation again.

_You’re the best, you know?_

Harry must laugh because he sends back a bunch of winky emojis and purple hearts. Louis sends back a poo emoticon and calls it a day.

“Louis, are you sleeping in there?” Liam asks just as Louis’ zipping up his jeans.

“Liam, a man has his needs, keep your pants on,” he yells, flushing the toilet and washing his hands. He opens the door. “Can’t believe you let me sleep in me stage clothes. Heathen. I stink like two week old rubbish.”

Liam’s sitting up in bed with the sheets pooled around his lap and Louis’ almost bowled over by the fact that he looks like he’s just had sex, what with the wrecked hair and the shirtlessness and the sheets covering the sweats pants he’s wearing.

He looks naked. Very much so.

Louis turns away before he does something he will definitely regret, and resolutely does not think about how easy it would be to just…give in and kiss Liam.

“You look like you’ve just slept with someone, Payno,” falls out of his mouth before Liam can say a word, “Like a hooker that stayed over.”

He can _hear_ Liam rolling his eyes.

“Thanks. And yes, you should shower, you look like a disgruntled racoon.”

“Big words for a big boy,” Louis licks out on a laugh, rummaging through his suitcase, pulling out his red and black shorts and a worn grey Marvel shirt. “Been swallowing the dictionary, have you?”

“Oh shut up, Louis. I did go to school.”

“ _Really?_ And yet you didn’t know that comedic was a word.” Louis’ laughing as he heads to the bathroom as Liam splutters.

“Neither did you!”

“Yeah, but I’m older than you!” He sings, and closes the door with a wink as Liam yells, “That doesn’t even make sense!” behind him.

Louis opens the door quickly, hasty to see Liam’s face one last time, and the words just tumble out of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. You should go now, strut down the walk of shame while you’re at it. Be a dear and tell people how good I am in bed.”

The pillow he gets thrown at his face is so worth it. He shuts the door again, laughing hard, feeling all the tension from yesterday seep away.

 

—

 

Liam’s gone when he gets out of the shower and he tries not to feel overly disappointed. He did ask the man to leave.

He knocks on Harry’s door a few minutes later before barging in when he realises that it’s unlocked.

“Hazza, you lazy grandpa, how the hell am I ready before you?” he yells over the sound of the shower.

“Because I need time to look pretty,” Harry gurgles through the water, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“And you’d know all about that,” Louis says, grinning at the shirt that Harry had left out on the bed. _Hot N’ Hard._ Indeed.

“I read.”

“Only you would compare yourself to an ancient city,” Louis calls back, laughing.

“Don’t mock history.”

Louis hums, distracted again by the shirt. “Why is it that you own a shirt that says Hot and Hard?”

Harry comes out of the bathroom dressed in pale green board shorts, steams spilling out after him, looking for all the world like he wakes up looking like he walked out of a swimwear magazine.

He shoots him a grin, “Bought that for you, then figured I liked it more.”

“Is that a dig at my being gay or your possibly bisexuality, Harold?”

“Both.” Harry tugs the shirt over the butterfly tattoo and winks, catching Louis’ eyes on it. “See something you like?”

“That is a conversation that doesn’t need to happen ever.” Louis says, refusing to take the bait. He knows Harry looks good. So does ninety per cent of the world. Harry doesn’t need his ego stroked. “I was just reflecting on the absurdity of that tattoo.”

Curly hair quivers as the giant idiot laughs. “Sure. Let’s go then.”

Louis follows him, poking the fedora that had Harry decided to wear, “Can’t believe I’m letting myself be seen with you wearing this outfit.”

“Lucky we’re not going anywhere, then.”

They ride up to the top floor, and slip into the pool room. Louis almost falls into the water as he stares at the view out the floor to ceiling windows. The water stretches out beyond the city, glittering in the late morning sun, a deep mesmerizing blue so different to the soft baby blue of the sky.

“Jesus…”

Harry’s laughing, pulling him away by his shirt, “Nice, isn’t it?”

“Amazing.” He turns away, swatting Harry’s hand, “So, just us then?”

“Something came up for Ben.”

Louis’ sure. Harry’s never been the subtlest person. His lies are never lies. His left eyes twitches when he lies. Louis’ sure that no one has ever told him that. He certainly has no plans to do any such thing.  

The curly haired lad drops his stuff onto a lounge chair, “Don’t suppose we could be alone for a couple of hours?” flashing a brilliant smile at the attendant who barely keep from swooning. She rushes off, blushing.

“You’re menace, Styles,” Louis chuckles, feeling sorry for the poor girl, and drops down next to him. “But, appreciate it.”

“What’s with the compliments today, what’ve you done?” Harry’s voice is dry but the soft undertone has Louis deflating.

He stands up, walking to the edge of the pool, and stares into the water. “I slept with Liam.”

“You did _what?!”_

Louis can feel Harry staring at him and turns, catching forest green eyes flickering in horror, the glare of the water reflected in them. He has to stop the grin twitching his lips and he sees the moment that Harry realises it, grudging amusement flashing in his eyes.

He starts laughing.

Next thing Louis knows, he’s gulping in water, still somehow laughing through the shock of it. His eyes burn as he struggles to the surface, water pouring out of his nose, coughing.

Harry’s standing at the edge, grinning, cheeky and innocent.

“You are such a little shit,” Louis croaks, rubbing at his throat, flipping his fringe out of his eyes. “I’m going to steal all your bananas and you’ll be _lost_ without them on stage tonight, Styles. _LOST._ ”

“You said you slept with Liam! Excuse me if I actually believe you.” Harry raises an eyebrow, and Louis feels like he’s being judged.

“Shut up.” He pulls himself onto the concrete edge, and sits. “But it’s not really a lie.”

Harry slips down next to him, his feet sliding into to the water. Louis keep his eyes on the ankle tattoos, the _Never Gonna Dance Again_ that Harry had gotten on a whim after losing spectacularly to Niall in a dance battle.

He doesn’t say anything until Harry tangles their hands together, rubbing between his fingers.

“I…” Louis’ voice breaks and he clears his throat, a hollow feeling pressing behind his breastbone. When he speaks again, his voice is shaky. “I had a panic attack last night.”  

The grip on his fingers tighten.

“You okay?”

“Am now, yeah.” He swallows. “Couldn’t breathe. Thought I going to suffocate. Paul helped. God knows that man knows everything.”

The attempt at humour falls flat. Louis closes his eyes for a moment.

“Liam was with him when El went for help. Didn’t want to leave because,” he struggles, the words catching in his throat. “Said he wouldn’t sleep knowing I was alone. The fucker stayed the entire night. I woke up clutched to his damn chest like I was the most precious thing in the world.”

The silence clenches around his heart until Harry untangles their fingers and pulls Louis into his side, curling his arm around his waist.

“He cares about you,” Harry says quietly, fingers pressed into the cut of Louis’ hip, “He really does. God knows the idiot might—”

“Don’t.” Louis cuts him off, pulling away. “Don’t do that to me.”

“Sorry, Lou,” Harry murmurs, and he leans forward, arms on his legs, pushing his feet through the water. “Weren’t you two planning a writing thing today?”

“Yeah.” He can’t make himself say anymore, the lump in his throat choking.

Harry’s silent for a beat. “He’ll be waiting.”

“I can’t—I can’t go, Harry,” he whispers, even though his throat feels swollen, aching, “I can’t see them together.”

The silence lingers longer this time, only the swish of water and the gurgling of the pool drains to be heard.

“What can’t the flower ride his bike?”

Louis’ head snaps up, and he stares at his best friend. “What?”

The grin on Harry’s face is widening as he catches Louis’ eyes, “Because his petals fell off!”

His mouth drops open and he stares at the silently laughing figure next to him. He can’t help the laugh that slips out of him, because holy fuck, that joke was _lame._

“Why am I laughing?” Louis manages as they both double over, “It wasn’t even funny!”

Harry’s straight up giggling, eyes scrunched and dimples poking deep into his cheeks. Louis reaches out and knocks him into the pool, laughing harder when he resurfaces looking like a drowned cat. He screams as Harry yanks him in, spitting out water right into Harry’s face.

“Oi!”

It turns into a splashing war, and they’re both panting by the time it winds down, leaning against the walls of the pool.

“I love him so much I can’t breath sometimes,” Louis blurts out, and then groans, hitting his head on the tiles. “I’m so fucked.”

Harry’s still giggling, “You need to be fucked.”

“Fuck you, Styles.”

Harry winks over his shoulder as he hauls himself out of the pool, muscles flexing, “Only if you say please.”

“That was cute four years ago.”

“You still love me.”

Louis snorts, accepting the towel that is tossed his way, “Don’t have space to love you.”

“Because your heart is Liam-shaped?” Harry yelps as the edge of the towel snicks his nipples. “Heeeeyyyy.”

“Deserved that. Now, I’m going to breakfast without you.”

The pout that Harry sends him stops him in his tracks towards the door and he sighs. Goddammit, this boy and his cute face. He’s gotten him to go to the shops, _walk_ to the shops three kilometres away to get a pack of jam biscuits with that pout.

“Still fall for that, Lou?” Harry’s grinning, satisfaction layered in every inch of his grin, as they head over to the elevator, nodding at the man at the desk.

“Only because you’re my favourite.”

Harry laughs at that. “Okay.”

“Don’t say it in that tone.”

“What tone—LOUIS!”

He darts out as the doors open on their floor, cackling, leaving Harry to run after him, rubbing the teeth marks on his neck.

“LOU!”

Louis runs faster, hoping Harry’s laces will miraculously come undone and he’ll go crashing to the floor.

“Hazza, you know I love you, right?” He calls over his shoulder, grinning, “You know you’re the only one for me?”

Harry just yells behind him and next thing Louis knows, he’s sprawled on his back, Harry landing on top of him.

“Fuck,” he groans as his back hits the floor, blinking up at the laughing boy, “Gently, Harold. I’m getting old.”

Harry’s fingers dig into the curve of his waist and Louis doubles over. He does it again and again until Louis’ a breathless mess of laughter, writhing on the floor. Damn this band and their stupid touchy-feely nature. No one should know Louis’ weak points.

“Stop!” Louis begs, scrambling weakly at Harry’s shoulder, “Fuck you, stop abusing me! Help! I’m getting raped by a giraffe—HAROLD!”

Green eyes gleam under the lights of the hallway as Harry presses his fingers into the crescent shaped marks on Louis’ neck and grins.

“Fair game.”

“Harry, get off Louis.”

Paul’s voice comes from behind Harry, resigned and amused at the same time.

“I’m attempting to,” Harry says, winking at Louis and slides his hands down towards his thighs. Louis catches his hands with a raised eyebrow. Harry pokes out his tongue.

“Think that’s a little inappropriate for a public hallway, don’t you, Paulie?” Louis bites out, grinning.

“Get your arse off the floor, Tomlinson.”

Harry huffs a laugh and scrambles off him, pulling him up.

Louis catches sight of Liam and Sophia behind Paul and his smile freezes. _Fuck._

He tries to look anywhere but at Liam, but his eyes are drawn to the warmth of the brown eyes that are watching the two of them, the way his eyes soften, the way he’s holding Sophia—

“Louis?” Harry shatters his thoughts with a soft grip on his shoulder. He reaches down and slips his fingers around Louis’ wrist. “Come on. We’ve got things to do.”

“Things to do,” Louis says absently and looks away from Liam’s eyes, straight into Harry’s. “Yeah.”

Harry gives him a small smile before turning to the other two, “’Morning Liam, hey Soph.”

“’Morning,” Liam says, and smiles. Louis grits his teeth.

“Hey, Harry.” Sophia smiles, and it’s innocent, so unaware, that Louis just can’t take it.

“I have to go.”

He walks off towards his room, blinking rapidly, because no. He’s not going to cry—he can’t be that person.

Harry’s apologising for him, he hears the words _hungry_ and _worried_ and just runs the rest of the way.

 

—

 

After breakfast, they’re really left with nothing to do. So Louis suggests heading to the bus and playing Mario Kart.

_So between us, who’s in front and who’s behind?_

_I think we kind of share that, really._

He grins to himself as they scuttle out the elevator, and out the door into the car park. That interview had been legendary. Liam’s unintended innuendo _I’ve cracked two minutes,_ Louis choking on his own laughter, _he’s not an endurance man,_ and Harry’s squawking laughter afterwards.  

When they climb onto the bus, apparently the others have had the same idea.

Niall is sprawled on the floor, shirtless, a pack of peanuts next to him. Zayn is laughing at whatever Liam had just said. Sophia is cuddled into—

They look up as he and Harry walk in and Louis wants to walk straight back out. But Harry reaches out and grips his hand before he can do anything.

Zayn’s eyebrow arches at that, eyeing their hands before looking up at Louis. He raises an eyebrow right back at him. Zayn raises both eyebrows and jerks his chin toward them. Louis looks at him; _really?_

“Stop having eyebrow conversations with Zayn and pay attention to me.”

Harry sounds so theatrically put out that Louis startles into a laugh.

“You are such an attention whore, Styles,” he murmurs, and plops down onto Harry’s lap when he sits on the couch next to Zayn.

“Well, you suddenly decided to spend a morning with me after years of silence, ‘course I’m going to want to keep you.” Harry’s laughing into Louis’ shoulder and Louis suddenly knows what he’s doing and feels so overwhelmingly fond.

“You’re actually the brilliant,” he says, and tugs on his curls.

“And you’re really slow,” Harry mutters, but his eyes scream _I know you._ “Can you write that down for me? I need it framed.”

Louis whacks him over the head as he draws out his signature _Heeeeyyyyyy._

“So…” Niall drawls, “Is anybody else seriously confused or is it just me?”

“Well, if you paid attention, _Neil,”_ Louis fixes him with an unimpressed look, “You’d realise that Harold here asked me to marry him the next time we’re in Vegas and I obviously said yes. Who could say no to those eyes?”

Sophia giggles. Louis feels like throwing something but just grins, strained. Zayn is shaking his head like he’s disappointed in Louis, but he doesn’t care. Who needs Zayn. Zayn is stupid.

“Did you, Harry?” Niall asks, and this is why he likes Niall. Because he goes along with his hare-brained ideas. Harry’s chuckling and it’s almost perfect until Liam speaks up.

“If you two pull a stupid stunt like that—”

“How stupid do you think I am, Liam?”

The words trip off his tongue, sharpened hooked words that splinter the warmth of the comfortable atmosphere. Harry’s grip tightens on his knee, thumb pressed to into the hollow curve.

Liam’s staring at him, eyes slightly wider than normal. Because.

Because they haven’t done this in a while. It’s been a good year at least, since the last time Liam chose to scold Louis and Louis had jumped straight at him, claws outstretched.

It hurts a little that that is all it took him. One visit from Sophia and Louis’ nineteen again, wanting to tear Liam down, pull out the rug from under him.

 _Sorry_ is knocking a bloody fist against his throat, desperate to escape, but Louis can’t, doesn’t _dare_ open his mouth just in case something else, something like _I’m in love with you_ comes out instead.

Zayn sighs out loud and stands up. Liam watches him with disbelieving eyes as he walks to Louis. Louis hates the flicker of betrayal that he sees.

“Want a smoke?”

It’s not a question, even as Zayn holds out a cigarette. The demand in the question has Harry pushing him up with a quiet _“go”_ and Louis goes, feeling guilty. Because in all honestly, a year ago, Zayn would have been on Liam’s side because _Lou, you’re taking it too far._

As the two of them hop off the bus, he hears Harry say, “He’s a bit off today. Don’t worry.” He stops himself from grinding his teeth.

It’s hot outside, the sky wavering as the heat rolls over them.

“What’s wrong?”

“I slept with Liam and no, it was completely platonic, so don’t look at me like that,” Louis says in one breath, leaning against the bus and heaving out a sigh.

“He told me about last night.” Zayn says, and that’s the last straw for Louis.

“He had no right to tell you that! Who the fuck does he think he is to go around telling every fucking person—”

“He was worried about you _.”_ Zayn interrupts, and flicks the lighter. The end of the cigarette flares an orange gold.

“I wasn’t dying,” Louis snaps.

“You might as well have been for all Liam cared.”

He kicks the ground with the heel of his shoe and says nothing.

“Louis.”

His teeth click.

“Be a dick. But for fuck’s sake, don’t take it out on Liam.” Zayn squeezes his shoulder briefly. “You two _work._ Don’t let it fall apart.”

“It’s already falling apart!” Louis whirls around. “It’s been falling apart in my hands since you found out, Zayn. John is practically screaming for blood after that incident on stage last night and Tony’s holding it together by the skin of his teeth.” He kicks a tire, anger, fear and a fucking horrible hole echoing in his chest. “I’m falling apart.”

He laughs and the hysterical edge in it has Zayn frowning.

“I wake up every morning hoping that it won’t be the day I fuck up. Some days I wish we weren’t doing this, so nobody would care that I like taking it up the arse, that I could just be me and it wouldn’t be a problem because no one would fucking care! But I wouldn’t give this up. I couldn’t. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.” His lungs rattle when he take a breath. “God. I woke up this morning and I just. I couldn’t stay there. Locked myself in the bathroom and told Harry to save me. Got back out and Liam was sitting there looking like we’d just—”

Louis doesn’t realise that he’s crying until Zayn tugs him into a hug, dropping his cigarette and crushing it beneath his shoe.

“I’m such a loser,” he mutters, wiping his face. He pulls away with a weak smile. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You need to stop bottling things in, Tommo,” Zayn murmurs, “You know we’re here for a reason.”

“Really? I thought you were here to sing—” Louis yelps as Zayn twists his nipple with a deft grin.

“Shut up, idiot.”

He grins and then lets the edge soften, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, you giant marshmallow,” Zayn smiles, “Now go inside and apologise for breaking Liam’s heart.”

Louis gapes, “I did not break his heart!”

“You might as well have,” the dark-haired boy grins, wolfish, and snaps his teeth, “Did you _see_ the way he looked at you?”

“Bite me, Malik.”

“ _Apologise.”_

Louis almost falls up the stairs as Zayn swats his arse and glares at him.

Liam’s the first one to stand up when Louis walks in.

“I’m sorry, Louis, didn’t know your mum wasn’t well.” Liam rushes out, and Louis stills, blinking at him, watching the earnest movements of Liam’s hands. “I didn’t mean to—”

 _Harry._ Harry had lied to Liam. He almost laughs. And then makes a note to call his mum to make sure she plays along.

“Shut up, Liam,” he says, and blinks when Liam immediately does so. O—kay, then. He shakes himself. “Look, I’m sorry. My fault.”

“No, I—”

Louis sighs, “Liam Payne, if you don’t tell me now that it’s my fault, I’ll take your song book and publish it. And I _know_ there are things you don’t want people to see.”

“Yeah, okay, it’s your fault.” Liam grins, a little sheepish, and rubs the back of his head.

“Damn right, so…” Louis shuffles his feet, and bites his lip, “Apology accepted?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank fuck,” Niall pipes up from the floor. “Can we watch _Die Hard_ now because the popcorn’s getting cold and I fucking hate cold popcorn.”

“Just for that, you’re off the Christmas list.” Louis says and flops down on the floor between Liam’s legs.

“I can buy the Rovers before you. Don’t threaten me.” Niall says without blinking.

Louis chooses not to stoop to Niall’s level and instead steals his popcorn as Harry presses play.

The opening credits are drowned out by Niall cussing to the high heavens that if Louis does not give the popcorn back this fucking instant, he would just go ahead and ‘accidentally’ tweet Louis’ phone number.

Louis hands over the popcorn and leans back against the couch, leaning against Liam’s left knee, and ignores the glint of teeth from Harry’s direction.

Harry can go fuck himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! 
> 
> It was longer this time, so hopefully that'll tide you guys over till next time XD 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, so...go ahead! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	8. Climax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :)
> 
> Another chapter! Once again, unbetaed so all mistakes are mine, apologies in advance :) 
> 
> So...don't kill me too much for the ending of this chapter...*awkward laughter* 
> 
> Actually, screw that! *laughs like a wicked witch*
> 
> Enjoy ;)

They get to Montevideo on a three a.m. flight, landing and stumbling off, sleep drunk, muttering slurred thank you’s to the flight staff, remembering manners only when Paul glares them into submission. Right. Reputation.

He’s as red-eyed as they are, Louis doesn’t know why he’s so insistent.

Only, Louis isn’t asleep. He can’t sleep. The bus is quiet save the whirring of the fridge. They’d all decided to sleep in the bus for the sake of it, none of them able to be bothered to trudge up to their hotel rooms. 

His brain is a mess. He lies in his bunk, staring at the roof, wide awake, his mind frozen on things that Tony had said in one of his rare calls the previous night.

_“John’s been stationed on a different case.”_

_“I’m handling your PR.”_

_“Seems like Simon’s loosening up on rules around here after Jaymi’s wedding date was announced. Proper sap about it too.”_

_“Anyone thinking of coming out would have a damn good chance right now.”_

He doesn’t know whether that was a hint. Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t…but honestly, it’d been circling around in his head since.

_Coming out…_ fuck, Louis feels like throwing up, his stomach churning at the idea of everyone knowing, everyone finally knowing that yeah, they were right, he’s as gay as they come.

The bunk is suffocating, the air stale and hot, he’s sweating under the sheets, burning. His hand curls around the rough fabric of the curtain and winces when it squeaks on the rails as he draws it back.

The others are passed out in the bunks, little puffs of breath that Louis can hear as he slips past, almost braining himself tripping over someone’s shoes. He’d bet his Barcelona jersey that they’re Niall’s, the slob.

The bus, as comfortable as it is, is like a cage around him.

Louis grabs his phone off the counter and slips out the bus door, barefoot, wincing as it closes with a soft hiss and hopes that no one woke up.

The car park is silent and Louis thanks the security for the amazing crown control for the lack of fans lingering around. The hotel sits just away from the water’s edge, across the road. He sets off, his hood and head down, strolls down the curb, crossing only when a lone car had passed by.

The streetlight nearby flickers in something like a greeting and Louis chuckles to himself, because that’s fucking ridiculous.

The beach is big and lonely, silent save the gentle whispering of the waves against the shore. He spots two, maybe three other people a little way up the beach, black against the white sand, who’ve had the same idea that he had but besides that, the stretch of not-too-pristine beach is empty. It’s right for what he wants though, to clear his head of this swirling cloudiness, but at the same time to lose himself in the woolliness of his mind, to wallow and wonder.

His hair ruffles in the still-warm breeze as he settles near the waterline, uncaring about the wet sand, tucking his knees against his chest and sliding his hands into the sleeve of the opposite arm. His fingers brush against the rope tattoo on his wrist as he looks out over the ocean.

The night is starless and dark and Louis squints into the distance, just making out the almost indiscernible colour change where the blackness becomes water, moving against the horizon.

He listens to the rolling hush of the tide, lungs filling with the salty sea air, digging his toes into the sand.

It’s the echoing feeling of freedom that pulls his mind from drifting away on the waves, and he realises, that for the first time in a long time, his guard is completely down. He’s not wound up for an unexpected attack from a water gun or Harry jumping into his lap; he’s sitting here, on a beach in Montevideo, halfway across the world from the place he calls home, feeling more settled than he has since that last night in Harry’s bungalow back on the X Factor.

Louis sucks in a breath, tasting the salt on the back of his tongue, and the world unfolds in front of him. The sting of realising that, maybe, just maybe, Tony could be right.

“Bit late for you to be up, isn’t it?”

A smile curls around Louis’ mouth, warmth spreading through his chest, and he keeps his eyes on the dark line of the horizon.

“Didn’t know you were joining us, mum,” he says, and the quiet puff of laughter he gets has a blush dusting across his cheeks.

The sand rustles as Liam settles down beside him.

“So.”

Louis turns his head to the side, the smile still lingering around his lips, “Didn’t know you were awake.”

“Heard you sneaking out. By the time I’d gotten off the bus, you’d disappeared. Figured you’d be here.” Liam says, and catches his eyes.

Sleep lingers around the corners of Liam’s eyes, a haziness that he blinks away, like he’s waking himself up. The fond exasperation in those warm brown eyes knocks Louis off his axis for a moment, and he looks away, covering the frantic lurch of his heart with shrug.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He says instead, and watches the tide drag a shell back out.

Liam hums.

“Not like you, to be this quiet.” Liam breaks the moment, voice light.

Louis tugs his hood forward to stop himself from smiling. “Learned from the best.”

“I’m setting terrible examples, then.”

He does smile then, a little helpless to it, “You wormed your way through, Payno. Made me impressionable to your wild charms.”

His own words, meant light-heartedly, hit way too close to home, because _god_ , it’s true.

“I’ll be teaching you proper manners next.”

“Are you calling me a slob, Liam Payne?”

Liam laughs, quiet and throaty, “King of.”

“I take offence to that.”

“You would.”

They watch the tide roll in and out, the minutes ticking past, and Louis stretches his legs out, before tucking them under him, crossed.

“You okay?”

Liam’s question doesn’t catch him off guard, it’s comes a little late, really.

“Yeah.”

The lie is too obvious and he swallows a sigh when Liam snorts.

“Louis.”

It’s pretty fucking terrifying to have Liam like this, warm and solid next to him, looking soft and cuddly and _knowing_ that he could open his mouth and just admit that he’s been wanting Liam since the beginning.

“I…” His voice cracks under the pressure, “Shit.”

Liam tugs him under his arm and Louis can’t help but lean into it, exhausted.

He figures that maybe, maybe he can tell the truth, modified, but still the truth, because it’s four a.m. and he just _can’t_ anymore.

“I love him so much it hurts to breathe sometimes,” he whispers and the words are pulled away, dragged out to see by the breeze even as Liam’s arm tightens around him.

He feels raw, like an exposed nerve, he feels cut open and Liam could crush his heart in seconds without even trying.

“I don’t think I can ever…it can’t happen, you know?” Louis continues, fingers clenched in the fabric of his pants, his heart thudding. “I’m not…he’s straight as fucking ruler and I…” He laughs, sad and broken, “I’m nothing more than a friend.”

“He’s an idiot.”

Louis almost cries, because that, _that_ is what would end up breaking his heart. Liam’s sincerity.

“He’s a fucking idiot not to see what he’s got if he doesn’t know already,” Liam says again, voice firm and determined, but Louis hears a tremble underneath and swallows.

“Liam,” he mutters, “You don’t even know who it is.”

“Still think he’s an idiot.” His tone is petulant, like a child, and Louis loves him just that much more, because _god,_ he’s insulting himself.

“He’s not, is the thing,” Louis says, and feels all the more ridiculous for defending Liam to Liam. “He’s…he’s honest and kind, takes caring to the next level. He’s fucking gorgeous, like, he just…he’s the biggest fucking dork I’ve ever met in my life and he…god, he has the biggest boner for superheroes. But. He’s got a girlfriend. She’s perfect for him, really,” Louis has to cough out the lump in his throat, knowing how strained his voice sounds, “I don’t have a chance.”

Liam’s gone silent, and Louis can’t look at him, because if he does, he’s going to end up kissing him.

“You could, though,” Liam breaks the silence, right through Louis’ thoughts, and there’s something in his voice that Louis can’t read. “Who is he, Louis?”

“You know him.” He doesn’t mean for it to slip out, but it does, and he closes his eyes in defeat. “You know him so well.”

Liam freezes under him.

Louis’ heart is hammering in his chest so hard that he’s afraid it might actually fall out, because _shit. Shit._ “I’m really—” He starts to say before Liam cuts right across him.

“I have to go,” he’s pulling his arm back and standing up so fast Louis almost falls over.

An icy fist is clenching in his stomach, because _fuck,_ he’s just ruined everything.

Liam makes it three steps up the beach before he turns around, wild brown eyes catching fading blue. Louis can’t speak, the words bunching up in his throat.

“How does he feel about it?”

Louis blinks at him.

Liam looks like he’s considering breaking something, he looks desperate and Louis blinks again.

“How does Zayn feel about it?”

Zayn? Where the hell does _Zayn_ fit into—

Oh.

Louis thinks he might start laughing if he doesn’t cry first, because holy fucking hell, Liam thinks that he’s in love with Zayn.

“Liam, I—” He tries.

“S’okay, Lou,” Liam’s grinning at him, and Louis struggles to piece together the tight corners of his lips. “I’m sure Zayn understands.”

“Yeah…” He says softly, and looks down at the sand with a scowl pulling at his eyebrows. “Guess he does.”

Liam’s gone when Louis looks back up and wonders what the hell just happened.

He stays there, staring out over the water until the sun starts to rise. It’s mesmerising, the way a sliver of burning orange suddenly explodes the sky into pastel shades of purple and orange, and Louis sits and watches until the water shimmers silver and calm in the orange glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...I had to! It was a perfectly good opportunity! XD
> 
> Hope you enjoyed that, so comment if you did, it's like the highlight of my life :D


	9. A million reasons [and time’s eaten up my courage]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been WAY too long and I'M SORRY OKAY I'VE HAD TRIALS AND THE HSC IS IN LIKE TWO AND HALF MONTHS AND I'M SO SCREWED. 
> 
> But. ANOTHER CHAPTER! 
> 
> Enjoy ;)
> 
> (Oh and uh, don't hate me too much...it just sort of happened. Louis flat out refused to cooperate, so...)

It’s six thirty by the time he makes a move. He’s frozen to the bone, soaked from the waist down, because he’d sat, unable to move whilst the tide had risen around him. He’s basically an idiot because now his phone is waterlogged and dead as it can possibly be. He’s so fucked.  

It’s only when he feels a pull on his legs that he gets up, unwilling to be actually swept out to sea, no matter how much he wanted to disappear forever.

When he makes it back to the car park, he pauses in front of the bus briefly, uncertainty clouding at his mind.

The decision is made for him, however, when Paul comes marching around the bus, a glare fixed on his face. He stops when he sees Louis.

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bunk, Paulie?” Louis grins, knowing that he’s in deep, _deep_ shit.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?”

He’s frogmarched to the bus, dripping seawater as he goes.

“Beach.”

“Get cleaned up. I don’t have time for your shit today, Louis.” Before he has time to respond, Paul shoves him into the bus and storms off towards the hotel.

“Good morning to you too,” he mutters to himself.

All four boys are in the kitchen when he walks in, and he sighs to himself when their eyes turn to him.

“I’m going to change.” He declares before anyone can say a word and marches into the back, stripping off the wet clothes as he goes and shoving them in the bathroom, before tugging on a new pair of sweats and an old shirt.

“Who dragged you through a water hole?” Niall asks around a spoonful of cereal when he returns, dry and feeling warmer by the minute.

Liam’s staring at him, eyes boring into the side of his face.

“I dragged myself through it, thank you, Neil,” Louis bites back, grinning, feeling edgy under Liam’s gaze.

“You’re an idiot.” Harry says.

“Love you too.”

“Hey, babe,” Zayn murmurs over his coffee, eyes smiling.

Louis feels ridiculously conscious of Liam at that moment. He swallows the hesitation bubbling in his throat and grins. “So then, who’s ready for this?”

Harry tugs him into the booth next to him, “None of us, obviously.” He places a cup of coffee in front of him.

Louis raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that shit. You know and I both know how annoying you are if you haven’t had coffee. Ah!” Harry cuts him off before he can speak, smiling. “I don’t care. Drink it.”

“You owe me tea later and you’re so lucky I love you, ” Louis grabs the mug and sips from it, scowling, and then concedes because. Ooh. Caramel.

“Not as much as a certain someone,” Harry bites a chunk of toast, a wink caught in his eyelashes, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

Niall snorts.

“So low on the Christmas list, Niall,” Louis mutters, feeling the heat in his cheeks even as Liam looks away.

“You’ll end up getting some huge ass present, don’t lie to yourself.”

“Sliding lower.”

“What were you doing on the beach anyways?”

Louis looks up at Zayn’s question, eyes catching on Liam who is staring out the window and totally, utterly, _completely_ ignoring Louis’ existence.

Zayn and Niall are watching him when he breaks his eyes away.

“I, uh, couldn’t sleep.” He says quietly. His thumb brushes away a drop of coffee on the side of the mug. “Haven’t slept since the night before, actually.”

Harry’s fingers slide up from his shoulders to the back of his neck, pressing in firmly enough that Louis feels grateful for the distraction from the almost unnoticeable twitch in Liam’s shoulders.

“Thinking about your boy, then.”

Louis stares, stares hard at the wide line of Liam’s shoulders, the tense muscles in his neck, the lock of his jaw, and finally blinks at the shuttered edge in his eyes when he _finally_ looks at Louis.

“What—” His voice breaks. He clears it awkwardly. “What?”

Harry’s fingers press harder.

Liam rolls his shoulders back. “This morning.”

Louis feels a little betrayed, stupidly, at the unreadable tone in Liam’s voice. Because. Because Liam isn’t supposed to be this closed off, hard-edged person. They had worked through that…they had worked so hard to get to where they are now—Liam is open, Louis’ person…Liam is a sure thing for Louis to come back to. When Harry’s gallivanting off in LA and Niall’s in Ireland and Zayn’s spending much-earned time with Perrie; Liam is _there,_ even with Sophia in the picture.

“This morning,” he repeats, and he just. He can’t. “Liam. You got it all wrong—”

“Did I, though?” Liam interrupts and Zayn’s eyebrows disappear into his fringe. Louis sighs.

“You took what I said the wrong way—”

Liam cuts him off again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“’Cos the rest of us figured it out, Li,” Zayn answers instead and Louis wants to groan and bang his head against the table multiple times until he gets amnesia, because _why couldn’t Zayn just keep his damn mouth shut?_

Liam’s eyes glitter. “So now that _you_ know, it’s okay for me to _not_?”

A scowl draws across Zayn’s forehead. Louis fights the urge to actually knock his forehead against the table.

“Why the hell are you so angry about this.”

“Z—” Louis starts to say.

“Stay out of it.”

The words are hissed out so fast, so furiously, that Louis actually startles, mouth falling open. He stares at Liam, disbelief echoing in his mind.

Even Niall is staring at Liam like he’s never seen him before.

Harry leans into Louis, mouth next to his ear. “What’s happening?”

But Louis can’t answer.

And then he can, because suddenly, the vice in his throat snaps and he lets his hand fall to the table with a thud. Liam startles, shoulders flinching.

“For fuck’s sake, Liam, I’m not fucking in love with Zayn, okay?”

His voice echoes around the bus and for a few startled seconds, it’s completely silent.

Zayn starts laughing.

Proper, head thrown back, eyes scrunched, loud belly laughs that has Louis’ lips twitching despite the situation.

Niall’s got his hand pressed over his mouth, making strangled coughing noises. Harryhas his face pressed into Louis’ shoulder, giggling almost silently, and he can feel the vibrations up against his chest.

Louis blushes in spite of himself.

“Shut up, lads,” he mutters, rubbing at his face.

Niall loses it at that.

“You!” He falls into Zayn, choking, laugh lines creased into his temples, “In love with—him!”

Liam’s sitting in, frozen in his spot, watching the scene with wide eyes, “What…”

“Liam, you giant donut,” Zayn says, wiping at his eyes, teeth flashing white, “I’m not the one he’s in love with—”

Harry’s hacking cough interrupts the sentence, and he collapses back against the booth, massaging his throat, “Jesus, Payno, warn a guy before you assume stupid things.”

“But,” Liam splutters, scratching at his neck, and looks at Louis, “You said—”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I never said.”

“But who—?”

“Honestly, Liam, who else do you know that is a giant dork?”

Louis almost bites his tongue off and glares at Niall who tries, in vain, to look innocent as Liam turns, wide eyed, to Louis.

“You’re—”

He panics.

“Haven’t spoken to mum in a few days, I think I might do that, yeah don’t want her to—” He manages to get halfway out of the booth before he’s pulled back by his shirt, falling back against Harry. “Fuck!”

“Sit.” Harry says firmly, grip on his shirt unmoving.

Louis struggles, nails digging in Harry’s forearm as it folds across his stomach, “Harold, I know where you live.”

“Great, come visit sometime.”

“I hate you.” He sits, crossing his arms, and avoids looking Liam.

“Someone explain.” Liam growls. “Now.”

“Well.” Zayn’s eyes are on his face, he can _feel_ the disapproval boring into his face. “Louis, why don’t you explain?”

Louis stays stubbornly silent. If this was the way it was going to go, well, they can tell him themselves.

“Styles?” Liam turns to Harry, and Louis curses silently because fuck, that face, the dark anger and the muscle jumping in his forehead, that face always gets to Harry.

He sees Harry visibly hesitate.

“I don’t care, just—”

“Brilliant!” He doesn’t give Liam a chance to continue. “As long as this is happening, can I leave? I’d rather not be here to have my heart torn to shreds, thanks.”

“No,” Harry pushes down on his shoulder, and Louis goes pliant, eyes widening at the hard edge in Harry’s bottle green eyes. “The three of us are going to leave. And for fuck’s sake, Lou, sort out this shit. It’s not fair to Liam.”

Louis gapes. Not fair to _Liam?_ It’s not fucking fair to him!

“Traitor,” he mutters, even as Harry grins at him, cheeky and charming. Louis hates him.

Zayn pushes Niall out of the booth, flashing Louis an encouraging smile, eyes soft, “It’s fine, babe. See you later, yeah?”

Harry has the fucking nerve to climb over Louis’ lap, ruffle his hair like he’s something five year old and go _sauntering_ out of the kitchen.

Zayn snorts a laugh and pats Louis’ shoulder as he walks after Harry.

Niall just grins, squeezing Liam’s shoulder and then winking at Louis, he says, voice light but the warning is clear, “Don’t fuck up, Tommo.”

And well if _Niall_ is down to being actually serious, then, well, Louis is a bit fucked. He hates all of them.

By the time he hears the three of them leave, his palms are sweating and his ears are burning, because Liam hasn’t said a word and neither had he.

He can’t feel his fingers, they’re pressed too tight against the mug suddenly back in his hand, his knuckles white.

“Richards.”

Liam’s eyes snap to him from where he’d been staring out the window. “What?”

Louis wants to know why the Universe hates him. Had he just said Richards? As in Dan Richards, their fucking _guitarist?_

“Dan,” his mouth says again, even while his brain is _screaming_ a recurring loop of _what the fuck are you doing_ ,“Richards.”

“You’re in love with Dan, our guitarist?” The disbeliefin Liam’s voice is warranted, and his eyes are actually wide, “Him?”

“Uh,” Louis splutters a little, shifting, squirming—and no, it’s not because he’s lying, thank you very much, he just has sand in very uncomfortable places—and he shrugs, staring down into the cold coffee, “Yeah.”

Liam stays quiet for a moment, and the moment he speaks, Louis knows that he actually believes him, despite the jagged undertone of shock.

“Well, thanks for telling me, I guess, Louis.” He gets up, and smiles, and actually fucking _puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder_ and says, “I’m sorry he’s a bit stupid.”

And although Louis is an absolute _mess_ on the inside, he manages a grin at Liam, “Thought I told you he was straight.”

Liam laughs, grin teasing, “I believe the words were _straight as fucking ruler,”_ and even his impersonation of Louis is brilliant. Louis wants to kiss him and that’s really nothing new. “And well, maybe your arse in those black jeans of yours will be enough to turn him a little gay.”

Louis’ left gaping after him as he walks out.       

_The fuck was that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that wasn't TOO disappointing...
> 
> But the next chapter will be better, I promise! Lots of kissing and stuff ;) And no, that's not a spoiler HA! XD
> 
> Wow...exams have gone to my brain...
> 
> BUT, until next time...


	10. Fort out of sheets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW. I KNOW AND I AM SO SORRY. HERE'S CHAPTER 10 AFTER 38648911 YEARS. 
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL <3 
> 
> Enjoy! XD

“So how’d he take it then?”

Niall pops out of nowhere, startling Louis enough to make him drop the football he’s bouncing on his foot. His fingers rubbing over his chest, Louis swallows the guilty feeling in his throat and grins, “Yeah, uh, great.”

“That’s brilliant, Tommo! All sorted, then.” Niall plucks the football off the ground, grinning from behind his sunglasses. “Up for a match? You and Dan versus me, Devine and Sandy?”

Louis can’t help cringing at Dan’s name but nods all the same, waving Dan over as Niall’s voice echoes around the empty stadium.

“C’mon, we’ve got to beat Niall,” Louis whispers to a laughing Dan as he fixes the head band over his hair, “He’s being annoying.”

Dan snorts, “What’s he done now, then?”

“He’s Niall,” Louis says like it’s a reason.

Dan goes along with it like people usually do when Louis opens his mouth. They’ve learned well.

“Right then, let’s get going, lads!” Niall calls, and there’s a wild grin on his face, “You’re going down, Tomlinson!”

Louis is dodging around Sandy and jumping towards the ball when he collides with Dan and the two of them go down yelling, laughing, tangled up.

“Get off me, you giant oaf,” Louis pants, pushing at his shoulder, “You weigh a fuckton.”

Dan groans, “I hit my elbow, you knob.”

“Attacking your own team, well done, Tommo,” Josh cackles as he streams past with the ball.

Louis rolls on to his stomach as Dan manages to untangle them, groaning but laughing as Niall’s guffawing surrounds them.

The first thing he sees is Liam when he stands up. Louis doesn’t think Liam notices him because his eyes are fixed on Dan, and Jesus Christ, does he looked pissed off. He suddenly realises that things could get really mess, really fast.

Shit.

Why did he have to throw Dan under the bus? Dan is _nice._ And they can’t find a new guitarist that quickly.

Louis watches out of the corner of his eyes as Zayn comes up beside Liam, saying something.

At this point, Louis’ not even concentrating on the match.

Liam replies, eyes still on the guitarist, and Louis flinches when Zayn’s outraged, disbelieving screech reaches them.

“ _What?”_

The other boys come to stop, the ball rolling by Niall’s feet, as they look towards the pair nearer to the stage. Zayn’s head snaps towards them, fury clear in the sharp lines of his jaw, eyes looking straight at Louis.

“ _Louis, you bloody idiot, I’m going to fucking end you.”_

The yell echoes as Zayn’s accent rings around them and Louis knows that he’s in deep, _deep,_ very extremely deep shit.

Niall turns to him with a raised eyebrow, “The fuck have you done now?”

“Eh,” he makes a face, and glances towards the exit, “Don’t suppose you’ll stall him for me?”

“ _No-ho way,”_ Niall holds up his hands, mouth twisting, “Nah mate, an angry Zayn is a clever Zayn and I sure as fuck am not getting on the wrong side of _that.”_

Louis groans, glancing up as Zayn approaches, his strides wide and controlled, angry. “I’m so fucked.”

He sees Liam disappear from behind Zayn.

At least that’s a consolation.

“Why the fuck would you tell Liam that you’re in love Dan?” is the first thing that Zayn spits out, drawing level with them, arms cross, honey eyes glittering and hard.

There’s a stunned silence.

“ _Me?”_ Dan’s weak splutter is drowned out by Niall. “You told him what?” He asks, and gives Louis a _what the fuck is wrong with you_ when Louis looks at him.

Louis shuffles, scratching the back of his neck, feeling the heat rising to his ears, “Uh.”

“Answer me, Lou, for fuck’s sake,” Zayn says, frustration seeping through his words.

“I don’t know!” He says finally, throwing his hands out, “I don’t know, okay, it just slipped out, I didn’t even think about it!”

“I’m so _fucked,”_ Dan mutters from somewhere to his right, “Liam’s gonna neuter me.”

“Why would he do that?” Louis laughs faintly, turning to him. “He was bloody _happy_ that I told him and fucking told that my arse in my black jeans would turn you gay even if you weren’t.”

Dan’s jaw snap up as Louis turns, eyes wide, “I’m so fucked.”

Sandy drags at Dan’s arm, “C’mon bro, they need to sort this out. Let’s go.”

Louis blinks after them, watching Josh shaking his head as Dan splutters something out, Sandy laughing.

Zayn sighs hard, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, “Louis, you utter idiot, Liam’s in love with you.”

And whatever smart reply Louis had dies in his throat. Because what? _What?_

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that, I’m having hearing problems,” he says, ears ringing, “What was that?”

Niall lets out a sound, “Liam’s gone and done what now?” And it’s somewhat comforting that he’s not the only one in the dark about all this.

Zayn rolls his eyes, the gold brown flashing in the sunlight, and purses his mouth, lips thinning, “He’s in love with you, okay, has been for ages. And I didn’t think I’d have to tell you like this, you idiot, but you’re acting like a fucking child and tearing his heart to pieces while you’re at it. I have no choice.”

Louis just stares.

“…Sophia?” Niall ventures to ask, voice gone weird.

“She figured it out,” Zayn says, and his voice is weary, drawn out, heavy like he’s had this on his shoulders for a long time. “Few weeks ago, actually, she took it well, surprisingly.” He hesitates, hair flopping over his forehead as he jerks his head, “At least until recently. Think she’s had enough actually…”

Louis’ mind is a chaotic tangle of jagged pieces of thoughts and half sounds. Zayn’s words are making absolutely no sense even though he can hear them. A wall springs up as a headache buzzes on the edges of his brain.

He laughs, singular, sharp, and amused.

“Good one, Z, really believed you there,” He says, a smile forced across his mouth, “Thanks for that.”

Zayn’s head snap to him, disbelief shadowing his eyes. “I’m not fucking lying to you, Louis.”

Niall, oddly enough, shifts to Louis’ side, crossing his arms and as their shoulders nudge together, Louis feels a surge of affection for the Irish lad.

“Zayn, man, how do we know that?” Niall asks, and his voice sounds apologetic even though his voice is hard, “How’re we supposed to know that? This came out of nowhere, bro, not like it’s exactly easy for Louis to believe.”

“Niall.” Zayn looks stunned, a little betrayed, and Louis wants to say _good, fucking good_ but he doesn’t have the heart to, even now _._ “I’m not—why would I—”

“Maybe just—just let him alone for a bit,” Niall says quietly, and his fingers find Louis’ hip, pressing in warm and firm, “He needs time.”

“He’s _had_ time!” Zayn tears at his hair and Louis thinks that this is the most disjointed he’s seen him in a while. “He’s had months, fucking _years_ to sort this out!”

“I’ve had years hiding behind a fucking contract that threatened to kick me out if anyone found out and you think I could have just gone up to Liam and _kissed_ him?” Louis bites out, anger licking fire along his veins, burning in the pit of his stomach _._ “Well, _fuck_ you, mate, because that’s not fucking fair. If Liam is in love with me, as you say, then why the hell didn’t _he_ say something? Why didn’t he make the first move?” 

Zayn stands, shoulders drooping, eyes dull, and says nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” Louis mutters, and walks towards the entrance to the passages under the stadium.

“Could have broken that better, Z,” he hears Niall say, before footsteps echo behind him and Niall slips his arm around his waist.

He says nothing as they down the hallways and for that, Louis is tremendously grateful. Niall just keeps his arm settled on his waist, solid and anchoring.

Liam appears around a corner and Louis just smiles wide, ignoring his heart as it trips over a beat.

“Hey, Payno.”

“Hey, Tommo, Hey Niall,” Liam smiles, eye crinkling, “Where’re you off to?”

“Neil and I are—”

“We’re going up to catering,” Niall cuts in with a grin, fingertips pushing into Louis’ skin through his shirt, “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.”

Liam laughs, and Louis spares a thought for the adorable sound, “Alright, then, see you later.”

Louis thanks the gods that Liam doesn’t offer to tag along. He almost melts with relief when Liam disappears out of view, gripping Niall’s shoulder, “Fuck.”

Niall hums, and drags him the in the direction of singular door that reads something in Spanish, pulling his through and shutting the door. It says something about him that he doesn’t even question it as he’s dragged up six flights of stairs, he just follows, both of them slightly breathless as they reach the top.

“Fuck, is this even good for your knee?” Louis pants, bending over to pull in a lungful of air, as Niall pushes open a metal door. Sunlight streams in and Louis groans. “Shit, that’s bright.”

“Knee’s fine,” Niall says with a chuckle, “Now come on, grandpa, you gotta see this.”

He’s hauled outside, and his eyes go wide.

They’re standing at the very top of the stadium, looking out over it, and behind them, Montevideo stretches out to meet the coast. The sun gleams off a church cross not far off and the ocean lulls a deep dark blue farther out.

He whistles, “You always manage to find the best spots.”

“Gotta go looking, Tommo,” Niall says, leaning back against the railing, teeth flashing in the sunlight, “Not stay locked up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis mutters, smiling, “I’m so obviously an introvert.”

Niall says nothing and Louis feels like he’s lost his touch. He shuffles forward, placing his arms on the railing and lacing his fingers together, eyes focused on the stage below them.

“Wanna talk, then, Tommo?”

Louis swallows.

“This place is really something, eh?” He says instead of the _how could Zayn do that_ that’s itching on the back of his tongue, because it stings, it hurts, because he’s _Zayn_ , but at the same time he understands, really, because Liam’s always had Zayn.

“Tommo.” Niall chides, tone soft but accusing all the same.

“What do you want me to say, Niall?” he rushes out, hard and sharp, “That I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do now? That maybe, just maybe, I may have a chance but Liam thinks that I’m in love with our bloody guitarist? That I don’t even want to _believe_ that I maybe actually have a chance, that Liam is actually _gay_ in the first fucking place and _never_ told the rest of us?”

“Don’t pin this on me, Tommo,” Niall says, turning around and leaning next to Louis, “I had no more idea than you did.”

Louis clears his throat, feeling the tell-tale ache in throat, “Sorry, I just—sorry, mate.”

“It’s fine,” Niall waves it off, huffing a small laugh, “You’re strung up, I get it.”

Louis snorts, looking down at the stadium below, “I’m wondering whether jumping off this would solve my problems.”

Niall’s entire body freezes next to him and when he speaks, Louis’ blood runs cold, ashamed and heartbroken.

“Don’t you fucking dare joke about that stuff,” the blonde says, voice rigid and icy, “I get that this all a massive fuck-up, and to be blatantly honest, a lot of that is on your part, but I won’t let you make jokes about suicide.”

“Niall—”

“My second cousin jumped off a sixth floor balcony,” Niall continues, knuckles white, “Fell head first and cracked his fucking skull open.”

Louis can’t hide the cringe that shudders through his body.

Niall takes a moment to draw in a rattled breath. “So don’t you _dare_ make jokes about that.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say. God…what the hell is he even supposed to _do?_ “I’m sorry,” he whispers finally, shuffling closer to Niall, pressing their arms together. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have—”

Niall’s hand on his wrist stops him rambling, a small chuckle spilling out of the younger boy.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Tommo,” Niall says, rubbing a thumb over the ridge of his wrist, “It was a while ago.”

“Still,” Louis mutters, ducking his head.

“Enough about me,” Niall says firmly, clearing his throat, grinning, “What’re you gonna do about this mess? Might as well go lay a big one on Payno.”

Louis groans, pushing his face into Niall’s shoulder, “Fuck you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, hopefully that wasn't AWFUL and as a further apology I'm posting the last chapter now.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading ^_^ Please comment your thoughts ahaha XD


	11. Apparently, Disney wasn’t wrong about everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. The last chapter. Finally the end to this fic I've been writing for too long. 
> 
> Hope you like it XD And thanks so much for subscribing if you did and waiting for so long.

It’s hot. So hot outside and they’ve all resorted to the icy cold of the hotel air-conditioning because ain’t nobody want to melt in the sun before one of the biggest concerts of their lives. Outside the window, Rio shimmers in the midday sun.

Louis’ with Niall and Harry, playing a mindless game of truth or dare in Louis’ room, when Liam comes storming through door, Zayn not far behind him.

_“How could you lie to me?”_

Harry and Niall are up and off the bed before the sentence is spat out of Liam’s mouth. Zayn’s face is apologetic, a wince caught in his eyebrows, eyes weary. Louis’ still pissed at him.

“Louis, how could you lie to me? Is Dan in on this massive joke? I thought you were done with _let’s trick Liam and see how long he makes a fool of himself_ shit. God, I hate you.”

Louis feels like he sinks further into the bed, his limbs suddenly numb, as he stares up at a fuming Liam.

“You told me you were in love with Dan! Fucking Dan, Louis!” Liam snaps, a hard breath hissing out, “How the hell was I supposed to know you were fucking _lying_ to me? _Again?”_

Niall shuffles guiltily, grimacing when Harry flashes a glare at him. Louis’ cornered, his only escape route blocked by the other three, and something finally snaps open in his chest and suddenly he’s yelling back.

“You’re the one who can tell when I’m lying all the fucking time, and you _suddenly_ can’t figure it out now?” He shouts, standing up, “Well, that’s your problem, not mine!”

“Louis, stop fucking lying to me,” Liam snarls, eyes flashing as he moves a step, and if Louis wasn’t so angry right now he might say that that was really fucking hot.

“Maybe, did you ever consider that I was fucking lying for a _reason?”_ Louis shouts, “Maybe, if you fucking stopped _moping_ for one _bloody_ second you’d realise that I wanted something that I couldn’t have, so I lied at every _fucking_ point so I wouldn’t have to deal with what I knew was coming? For fuck’s sake, Liam,” He throws his hands up, and a manic shot of laughter drops out of him, he shakes his head, licking his lip, “Maybe, I was so fucking _desperate_ for you that I made every fucking _stupid_ ass decision in the fucking book just to stay away from you!”

Liam is staring at him, eyes unreadable, jaw clenched, and it crashes over Louis with a slaughtering realisation that he had just revealed every damn thing he ever kept from Liam. But Liam says nothing, an absolute shit load of _nothing,_ and Louis’ skin is itching with nerves and humiliation tightens along his skin in pinpricks.

“What.”

When Liam finally speaks, the edge in his voice is sharper, his brown eyes piercing.

Louis sees Harry almost move, to reach out to him, but Niall grabs his wrist, and Louis wonders if the grip hurts when white marks appear on the skin.

“Say that again.” Liam’s voice is low and strong, demand ringing through.

His breathing is ragged to his own ears, quiet and panicked.

“Can we pretend I never said that?” Louis is not too proud to beg at this stage, he’s a bit desperate to get out of here.

Liam’s eyebrows draw over his eyes and the brown glitters, angry and hard. “No.”

“I don’t think you understand how much I…Do you even…” Louis trails off, running out of steam, and then he squares his shoulder, locks eyes with Liam, avoiding the way his heart is racing in his chest, banging against his rib cage like it’s trying to fall out of his chest, and clears his throat. “Okay.” He breathes out, closing his eyes for a moment. His voice goes soft. “Okay. Liam. Just listen, okay?”

Liam’s anger fades from his expression, replaced by curiosity. “’Course.”

Louis almost wishes he hadn’t said anything. Not when the hope and curiosity in Liam’s eyes shine like something actually out of a bloody Disney movie. Not when there’s a small blossom of hope in his own chest that he viciously stamps down.

“Okay. Like ripping off a plaster,” he murmurs to himself, “just do it.”

He locks eyes with Liam again, and just lets it out. It spills out the moment he opens his mouth, the words tangling in themselves, tripping over each other, and it’s like the glass case he’s been trapped in just _shatters_ into a million dazzling shards.

“I love you. God, I’ve been arse over heel for you since the X Factor, you idiot.” He grins, the edges tinged with manic helplessness, swallowing, uneasy at the mindless shock on Liam’s face. “So. There it is _. Don’t_ try and be nice.”

The others are gaping at him as they shuffle out of the way, their jaws literally hanging open, as Louis walks to the door, each step like walking barefoot over broken glass. If they can’t believe Louis just did that, well…Louis’ about to pass out from shock of it all.

Liam makes an aborted move, like he wants to reach for Louis, and Louis flinches so hard he hits the door frame. Liam stops, a dulled sadness reflected in his eyes and Louis feels it aching in his chest.

“Liam. Stop, Liam.” He says quietly, rubbing his shoulder. He lifts his eyes to Liam’s wide brown. “I need. I need you to not be you right now, please don’t try to be all noble and caring. For my sake, please don’t be nice. Just. I don’t know. Yell or something.”

The words are no sooner out of his mouth when Liam groans.

“You’re an utter fucking self-pitying idiot!”            

Louis pauses, half way out the door already, and turns around, eyes wide, seeing Liam pulling at his hair. Okay, when he said yell he didn’t think Liam would actually yell. Maybe just stomp around or something like he normally does.

He sees the other boys take a literal step back, eyes just as wide. Zayn jostles Harry and Niall, pushing at their shoulders, until they fall out the door, Harry turning around to catch Louis’ terrified eyes and just shrugs before the door closes behind them and Louis is pushed into the room.

His fingers twist into each other and he feels like throwing up. “What—”

“No, no, shut _up,_ for once in your life, Lou,” Liam says, and his soft brown eyes are wild. His hair is standing every which way as if he had been electrocuted. “God. I can’t even—Look. After the X Factor, I threw my straightener away, I let my hair grow out into that _ridiculous_ curly monstrosity because you were always playing with Harry’s hair. Maybe I wanted that. I got a fucking _tattoo_ that first time because Zayn and Harry bonded with you over that and everybody loves Niall so what the fuck did I have for you? We had nothing in common and I wanted, I _needed_ something to get to you. I did everything I could to _make_ you notice me in a way that wasn’t boring, responsible old _Daddy Direction,_ always spoiling the fun _._ Louis, what the fuck do you think I’ve been trying to say? We were at each other’s throats, I was fancied the ever-loving fuck out of you and you tore me down every way you could. You _hated_ me back on the X Factor and I—”

That’s what gives his voice back.

“I never hated you,” He murmurs, eyes glued to somewhere to the side of Liam’s head. “I picked on you because it felt like I had no control. Liam, if I hadn’t done any of that shit, if I hadn’t been that complete utter git, I’d have pushed you against the kitchen cabinets at the House and snogged you until you couldn’t think straight, let alone be able to stand up. The band would’ve fallen apart. And I couldn’t do that.” His voice goes quiet. “I couldn’t do that.”

Liam’s quiet for a bit and all Louis can hear is the rasping of his own breathing and the thud of his pulse in his ears and he looks at the floor.

“I’d have let you.”

Louis’ head snaps up, and he swallows. “What?”        

Liam catches his eyes, “I’d have let you.” And there’s a hard edge in his eyes, a defiance, a confession, and Louis’ stomach lurches.

“You what?” He can’t help asking again.

“Do you ever _listen?”_ Liam glowers in the hottest way, brown eyes dark under his eyelashes, bottom lip dark pink, and Louis hates him a little. “I’d. Have. Let. You.”

“You’d have let me push you against the nearest hard surface and snog you till you couldn’t stand up?”

Again, Louis’ brain to mouth filter _sucks._

The tips of Liam’s ears are red and he wants to bite them.

“Yeah.”

Louis feels too big for his skin, his body’s on fire, his face is too tight, and he wants to crawl out of his body.

“I…”

For the first time in his life, he has nothing to say.

Liam grins like he’s won the lottery and he’s blinded by it. So much so that he just blurts out the thing that’s been tattooed to the back of his mind for the past four years.

“The fuck are you waiting for? Get your arse here and kiss me.”

Next thing he knows, he’s back against the wall, Liam plastered to his front, hands gripping his hips and pulling them against Liam’s.

He’s dizzy with the change, brain sluggish at seeing Liam so _close._ He stares up at Liam, a little unstable at the cheeky sparkle in his eyes, the coquettish flutter of his eyelashes.

Louis goes to speak but is cut off abruptly when Liam pushes up _hard_ against him, and the words come out as a strangled, _“Hnnnggh.”_ He flushes, sucking on his lip, as Liam grins. They’re nose to nose, breathing into the little space between their mouths, Liam’s grip tightening on his hips, his own hands tangled into the front of Liam’s shirt.

“Come here often?” Louis whispers, and ignores the sparking grin that flashes on Liam’s faces at the breathless sound of it.

“I will be.”

Louis’ blood is fizzing with nervous energy, tension crawling in his muscles, fire in his fingertips. He feels strangled by anticipation. Liam’s breath ghosts over his lips, warm like a promise, and he arches up a little into it, one hand slipping to the back of Liam’s head, the other tightening into the shirt. Because, he can _feel_ Liam. Liam’s pressed hot and solid against him from hip to knee, and it’s killing him.

“Just,” he says, breathless, desperation blanketing his voice, as he stares into Liam’s suddenly darkening eyes. “If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m going to kiss you.”

It’s funny, because Louis’ terrified but at the same time a hundred per cent certain, and his heart’s trying to give him an aneurysm with Liam tugging at his own lip, tongue peeking out, soft and red. But before Louis can do anything, Liam’s does it for him, leaning down and pulling Louis up at the same time.

Liam’s mouth is open when Louis catches it, hot, wet and _inviting,_ and he makes a choked sound high in his throat when Liam runs his tongue along the line of his teeth and slides a hand under his thighs, yanking him up. Louis claws at Liam’s shoulders, grappling for a hold as he wraps his legs around Liam’s hips. Liam’s holding him up just by the weight of his body, his hands curled into Louis’ hair. _God._ It’s like every fantasy he’s ever had.

It’s ferocious and hot and so entirely unexpected that Louis’ next breath stumbles out in a gasp.

“Fuck,” he pants, “You better not regret this in the morning.”

The way Liam kisses him at that has Louis squirming against the wall, writhing in Liam’s arms, trying to gain some control of the kiss just as Liam pulls back, lips red, glistening, his eyes all pupil.

He presses his forehead against Louis’, panting, “Impossible. Love you.”

And fuck, those are the hottest words to ever come out of Liam’s obscene mouth. Louis pulls Liam’s head down and pushes his tongue inside Liam’s mouth. The way Liam just takes it, just tangles their tongues together, has Louis shuddering, his hands pulling through Liam’s hair. Liam pulls back from the wall, still carrying Louis, _god that’s hot,_ and stumbles backwards until he hits the bed.

“Zayn wasn’t lying, then,” Louis gasps out, fingers buried in Liam’s hair, “Send—remind—remind me to send him f-lowers.”

They tumble, Louis landing underneath Liam, his weight pressing him down into the mattress.

“You knew. I’m going to kill him,” Liam murmurs into Louis’ ear, “Fuck.”

Louis noses along the line of Liam’s throat, biting at his jaw, feeling his body responding to the rasp of stubble against his lips, his throat. He gives into the urge to bite Liam’s ear, and tugs the earlobe into his mouth. The noise Liam makes is so uncharacteristically _filthy_ and Louis grinds up for the first time _,_ swallowing the noise as Liam just _delves_ his mouth.

“Did you say I love you?” Louis mutters, sliding his hands over Liam’s back.

Liam groans and it reverberates right through Louis, and mutters a throaty, “Shut up,” and accompanies it with a bite to Louis’ bottom lip. Louis melts and forgets what he was even talking about.

Liam’s hands are _all over_ him, pushing up his shirt, thumbing along the top of his jeans. His palms slide over his nipples and Louis loses his mind, arching up right into Liam, stifling a whimper into the wet heat of his mouth.

It’s a bit embarrassing how _easy_ he is for Liam, how much he wants this. The desperation itching under his skin has him pressing his hands into the dip in Liam’s back, pulling him down harder against him. Liam’s arms give out and his entire body presses down on Louis.

“Jesus _Christ.”_

The brutal honesty in Liam’s groan has his embarrassment vanishing. He’s wanted this for god knows how long.

“Just Louis is fine, thanks,” he manages with a breathless chuckle.

Liam sucks on his tongue with a vengeance and licks along the roof of his mouth and the corners of Louis’ eyes whiten as a roll of heat floods his body, laughter catching in his throat. Louis actually moans as Liam bites into the arch of his collarbone, soothing away the sting with a hot press of his tongue. Louis makes an absent note to thank the person who taught Liam all this before killing them out of jealousy.

_“OI, GET YOURSELVES DECENT, YOU HORNY ANIMALS, MY ROOM IN FIVE.”_

They startle so badly that Liam rolls off him and falls to the ground, groaning as his elbow hits the floor. Louis just lies there, panting, staring at the ceiling, fingers pressed to his tingling mouth, listening to the throbbing beat of his heart in his ears.

“Am I dreaming?” He muses, pulling a hand up to his face and pressing into his cheek. His throat is raspy as if he’s been singing for days without rest. “I have to be dreaming. That didn’t just happen.”

Liam’s face appears in his vision and there’s a smile tucked into the corner of his red mouth and a fondness shining in his eyes.

“Actually,” Liam says, and it’s quiet, hoarse, and his fingers strokes down Louis’ face to press into the mark on his collarbone. Louis shudders as a shiver swells down his spine, eyes locked onto Liam’s clear dark brown. “You’ll find that it did.”

Louis just manages to wrangle him down to kiss him again because _he can_ before the door slams open.

He wants to scream at the person who _dared_ interrupt but just laughs into the curve of Liam’s shoulder when he sees Niall standing there with a hand over his eyes and a grin pulling at his mouth.

“Just because you two finally got your shit together doesn’t mean you can get out of movie night. Get your asses sorted and into my room.”

Louis gives in and nips at Liam’s neck one last time before pulling back, smirking up at the younger boy. Liam just grins back like a fool, silly and wide, and Louis feels the edge of his grin fall away as he softens and pulls a hand through Liam’s already ravaged hair.

“Jesus,” Niall mutters in the background, “I’m gonna need to be tested for Diabetes if you two keep that up.”

“Fuck off, Niall.” Louis says cheerfully. Liam kisses the corner of his mouth and looks adorably shy.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Next thing he knows, Liam’s gone and Niall’s yanking them both out of the room as they hastily brush down their shirts.

Niall barges into his room, “Alright lads, hand the money over.”

Liam and Louis stumble into the room just as Zayn and Harry each hand twenty dollars to the Irish lad.

“Couldn’t have waited, could you?” Harry grumbles, as Niall cackles and pockets the money. “Just cost me twenty bucks.”

Louis snorts, pulling Liam down onto the bed beside him, “Not like you can’t afford it, mate.”

“You _bet_ on us?” Liam blinks around.

He sounds so irrationally put out that Louis just kisses him. There’s a chorus of groans from the other three as they break apart.

“’Course,” Harry says, and there’s cheeky glint in his eyes as a smirk curves into his cheeks, dimpling, “Niall bet the end of South America and Zayn and I were sure that it would take you till at least Europe, if not America, to get your heads out of your arses.”

“S’like you don’t even know us, Leeyum,” Zayn grins as he drags out his name, teasing, but Louis sees the relief hidden in the depths of his caramel eyes, “We’ve had bets going since Louis walked into that pole back in Montevideo.”

“Josh and Dan owe me forty bucks,” Niall claims cheerfully, collapsing on the bed at Harry’s feet, “And Teasedale owes me twenty five. I’m a rich man.”

Liam gapes and Louis just smiles to himself.

“I still can’t believe you did that, bloody walked straight into a pole,” Niall adds, laughing, “Completely casual too.”

“Shut up, Niall.”

“No, he’s right. What the hell?” Zayn asks. Louis wants to punch his stupidly perfect face because he already _knows_ why _._

“I—shut _up.”_ He crosses his arms, glaring at the three idiots that he calls his friends. “I hate you all.” He turns to Liam. “’Cept you, you’re alright. You’re my favourite.”

Liam grins like he can’t help it, “Yeah. I know.”

“Again. You two are going to give me Diabetes. Tone it down, for fuck’s sake.”

“No one cares, Neil,” Louis shoots back, settling into Liam’s arms and leaning his head back on Liam’s shoulder. “Liam, you are a _brilliant_ pillow.”

A puff of breath skates across his ear, a soft laugh from Liam, “Thanks.”

There’s a pause like Liam’s thinking. Louis taps his thumbs on Liam’s arm in a short tattoo as he waits. When Liam finally speaks, his voice is almost too quiet to hear, whispered into the shell of Louis’ ear.

“So does this mean we’re dating then?”

Louis would like to say that he doesn’t startle out of his skin and pinch Liam’s arm, but unfortunately, that is exactly what he does.

“I’m—what?”

The other three have moved on to talk about something or rather, something to do with a bondage bear. Louis doesn’t want to know, or rather he does, because sex, but not right now.

“You’re my boyfriend now, right?” Liam murmurs. Louis holds back a shiver as Liam’s nose skims the back of his neck.

“’Course, Payno, unless you’ve got some other gorgeous lad hidden away without telling me, in which case I take back everything I—”

_“Louis.”_

Louis deflates, and sighs softly, pushing his head back so he can press his mouth to Liam’s jaw, “Yeah. I am if you want me to be.”

Liam leans down to catch Louis’ mouth and that’s all the answer he needs.

Something soft whacks Louis on the throat and he breaks away to glare at a cheeky Harry, glancing down at the pillow on his lap. Liam is giggling into his shoulder and Louis just grins, lobbing the pillow at Harry’s head. It very quickly devolves into a massive pillow fight. Paul pokes his head at the noise in before leaving with a shake of his head as Louis winks at him from under Zayn.

Somewhere along the way, Louis stops for a few seconds, looking at the four boys around him; at Niall tackling Harry to the floor, at Zayn poking Niall’s wiggling sides, at Liam, who looks up at him from the boy pile on the floor and smiles, with white fluff floating around them like fresh snow; and he knows that there’s nowhere else he would rather be.

“Oi, quit the mushy eyes and come help me strip Harry!” Niall hollers and the moment is shattered.

But Louis laughs, because it’s alright. It really is. They’re his boys and he loves them to infinity and beyond. They are family; brothers; and he would be nothing without them.

“Prepare to be torn apart, Harold,” Louis yells like Tarzan, banging on his chest, and dives in, yanking at Harry’s belt and almost getting knocked out by an elbow to the face.

“Just because you want your face near my crotch doesn’t mean—” Harry’s protest is cut off when Zayn stuffs a shirt into his mouth, grinning at the wounded look in Harry’s eyes.

If Liam gets jealous and kisses him breathless on the floor, hidden by the bed from the others, no one needs to know. And if Louis manages to get Liam desperate enough to make a lame-ass excuse to drag him to his room to do unspeakable things, then, well, _everyone_ should know.

But, right now? That can wait for another day.

 

THE END (Finally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “For the record, Zayn, I’m still pissed at you."
> 
> “Why?” 
> 
> “Because your face is annoying. And you let me suffer for bloody weeks.” 
> 
> “I did that for a reason!”
> 
> “You watched me fucking cry!” 
> 
> “I’m sorry!”
> 
> “I filled your bunk with dirty socks.”
> 
> “Fuck you.”
> 
> “Nah, I’ve got Liam for that now. And you know he does this thing with his tongue—” 
> 
> “I hate you.”
> 
> ~~~
> 
> SO. It's finally finished XD Thanks for reading, all of you, and I'm so sorry it took so long >_


End file.
